This new story by our guest author, Nurit Henig, is quite different from our usual material. A respectable, dignified and intelligent older person is telling a story his great-grandfather passed on to him, and which he wishes to pass on to new generations. Most appropriate for Personal Histories, you would say. Except… something here is a little strange…
An Imaginary Autobiography
This is what my great-grandfather told me when I was a child.
For many months the EYE hovered over the city, without eyelashes, without eyelids, dry and lusterless. Never shutting, never winking.
Someone said that at midnight he saw it shed a tear, but there was no other evidence, so we denied the rumor.
It was the size of an Arctic winter cloud with its edges fading away. It would mean nothing to someone who had never visited the North Pole, but we identified it immediately.
When it first appeared above the roof we expected the grey rain, silvery and warm, like the rain that surprised us in the previous few years.
But then its color changed into poisonous blue-green, and finally it stopped above the tower – in the middle of the square.
We knew we had to get rid of it before disaster struck.
But there was no chance of “Strong Wind” or “Unexpected Storm” or “Radioactive Rain” that would blow it to shreds.
You could not be sure of anything, so we decided to try other ways.