The Gods of Fall:

The moon’s soft glow, often obscured by the rolling clouds, great curtains covering the moon and the darkness above, didn’t reach down into the cove’s narrow gorge that night. The rock-strewn shore provided a barrier between the sand and the cool water. The surrounding landscape looked like how Tyler imagined the moon looked on its surface. The clouds parted from time to time before dissipating shortly before midnight, revealing the light of the moon cascading down into the water far out over the Atlantic. “What is the hour?” someone asked. “It is the hour to convene,” a voice near a cave answered. The men began to move toward Tyler, forming a double triangle around him. The ritual began its rhythm, and Tyler began to sway slightly as the ceremony picked up momentum. From time to time, he touched his neck; he was aware of his pulse, the force of life that coursed through his body. This was nothing like the friendly arrival of the mailmen or explanations given by the erudite Prof. Collins in his paneled study on campus. Something primal had taken over, and Tyler felt the comfort of the warm evening surround him, encircle him, and embrace him with humid arms and sultry breezes. He felt lazy and at peace. He looked up toward the heavens and watched the stars become brighter as the final vestige of the clouds moved off and away to reveal a spectacular view of the night in all its secrecy and majesty. Tyler had unquenchable thirst. His body became hot and uncomfortable. His skin was prickly and sensitive, and the tunic began to feel oppressive to him. Even the air that had cooled his skin felt stifling. He drew in some deep breaths, but he wasn’t satisfied. His lungs began to burn. He ripped the tunic from his body, tossing it out toward the ocean, toward the waves and the tide. It floated for a while but soon disappeared into the inky depths of the churning current. Except for the pair of pantaloons, he stood half-naked in the water. His chest heaved, and his muscles became taut. He shrieked a primordial scream with his head and hands raised to the heavens, then his head hung limp toward the water. Profound silence surrounded him. Only the flickering of the twelve torches caught his eye for a moment, but they were soon hurled into the water, one by one, each succumbing to the watery grave with a slight hiss, much like the meteors that streaked through the heavens only to die in the blackness above.