Napolean Hamberg's rewrite is copyright © 2001 by Napolean Hamberg.

Return to every man a king.

This is how it all began, this sick horror which would overtake our destinies.

On the night of July 19, the heat wave (there must be none greater in the history of Northern New England ) retreated under the onslaught of thunderstorms. The region of western Maine was left to wonder which was worse, our original nemesis or our newfound savior. Both sides were fighting their vicious little war, and as always the citizens must suffer the turmoil of the conflict.

From our residence by Long Lake, we saw the first of the storms. It's clouds were held the color of a gray which wished to turn black. The storm was advancing toward us in its unified formation. It would be across the water just before dark. The air had been still for an hour. The silence lets one know... the conflict shall soon begin. The American flag (which stood sentry since my father installed it in 1936) would no longer stand with pride. It seemed to know somehow that this enemy could not be beaten. It played dead, hoping to survive the onslaught. Not even its hem fluttered. The heat was well fortified, filling the air with water. So much of it in fact that the atmosphere seemed to be coated with it. One of those days when one walks, and is instantly covered in their own sweat. That afternoon the three of us were swimming in the lake, but the water refused to reduce the heat induced suffering. One could realize some form of comfort by swimming to the depths of the lake. Neither Steffy nor I wanted to pursue this strategy, because Billy could not. His swimming skills were inferior to our own because of his young age of five.

At five-thirty, we ingested a cold supper for which we had no real appetite. The three of us picked listlessly at ham sandwiches and potato salad.We were on the deck that faces the lake, watching as the near black overtook our original sky. The heat still held our property as part of its domain. Food seems intolerable as the heat sucks the water from your body, and the sun bakes your skin to a golden brown. Instead we drank Pepsi, which was stored in a steel bucket of ice cubes.

Napoleon Hamberg may be reached at Poetry4230@aol.com. Please visit his website Come To The Dark, which features a number of his terror shorts on-line, as well as an opportunity to purchase several volumes of his writings.

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