**The way to read this will be changed**

No one could tell the exact moment when it happened, but the effect was all too obvious.

Searing heat came down from the sky, killing hundreds, thousands.  The shocked survivors gathered in the central square for the speeches of the leaders; as many of the workers who could cram into the space thronged the edges.

Sardo, a respected elder, spoke.  “This sudden blow to us is a natural disaster.  To fight it is beyond our strength, but we aren't defenceless.  Our plan must be to study and observe.  Greater knowledge will mean we can lessen the fatalities, protect more of our citizens.  In time-”

“Aye, in time!  But time is something we haven't got to spare.  We must act at once.  Plainly, the Gods are angry.  We must pray and fast.  To save our people, if this goes on, blood must flow.  To appease the Gods sacrifices must be made.”

“Oh yes,” one of the workers muttered to his neighbour.  “We know what that means.  They don't think anything of us poor devils, but when it comes to sacrifices we're good enough for the Gods.”

Individuals in the crowd took sides, cheering or booing the speakers.  The debate was interminable but no progress was made.  Those arguing, like Sardo, for study to try to understand the causes of the disaster, and the priests, like Creusa, were equally persuasive orators so neither prevailed and there was no action.

The scourge struck again.  Thousands perished.  A few religious fanatics took things into their own hands.  They arranged a ritual beheading of twenty workers.

Sardo was furious.  “Hasn't there been killing enough?  You fools!  What need for twenty more deaths?  We're small, weak creatures at the mercy of the elements - our actions count for nothing.  This was pointless murder.”

Even the rest of the priests were angry at this hasty, unsanctioned action.  Two of the ringleaders of the extremists were to be sentenced to death.  Despite what he'd said, Sardo approved their execution.

Again destruction poured from the skies.

Both schools of thought claimed their view was vindicated.  Those who argued for observation and a lengthier period of gaining knowledge of their surroundings declared, “We still suffer.  Sacrifices have achieved nothing.  When our population is being decimated we've made matters worse by this tragic loss of labour.”

“The sacrifice failed,” Creusa's faction countered, “only because it was too little, an insult to the Gods.  They must be appeased with more blood.”

The cycle of debate and disaster went on relentlessly.  They had only dim memories of a better life than this as time rolled on.  Ideas were put forward that they should move away, but this was madness.

“We can't move out of the world,” one of Sardo's followers shouted.  “The disaster is everywhere.  All the climate is wrong.  Perhaps it's our fault.”

“Nonsense!  We're just the victims of change.  I don't know how many generations must suffer, but there will be a change for the better.”

“Will there?  Perhaps it'll get worse and worse and none of us will survive.”

“Blasphemy!  The gods will protect us.  That's where our fault lies in straying from the old ways, forgetting the proper rituals.”

Boos and cheers echoed round the assembly, everyone shouted at once, it was bedlam.  Once spoken, the idea that they were all doomed began to take a hold on the crowd.  Neither deaths to appease the Gods, nor a study of the situation was working.

One day the speakers were all so worked up with shouting each other down that they stuttered into speechlessness.  In the lull one voice at the back was heard.

“When did we last bury any victims?  It seems to have stopped.”

There was dead silence. They looked at each other, wondering.  No one could remember exactly when the searing heat had last plagued them.

“Has it really come to an end?”

They hardly dared to hope but the crowd gradually came to life again.  Perhaps, there was a better future for them?

One of the fanatics on the fringe of the group responsible for the sacrifice of twenty threw out the suggestion, “The sacrifices saved us.  Now is the time to thank the Gods for our delivery with more blood.”

There was uproar.  Not surprisingly, because the majority of those present were the ones from whom the victims for the blood-letting would be chosen.  The other side prevailed.“We must have a festival, a celebration of the New Age and the end of disaster!  Stocks of food and drink will be released for a public rejoicing.”

Loud cheers rose from the crowd.  A big party.  That was more like it!

*     * * *

Mrs Williams came home from her holiday.  She kicked off her shoes, found some comfortable flatties and sank into an armchair with a sigh of relief.  After several cups of tea she felt far better.  She took the tea things back to the kitchen then she checked her pots of basil, thyme, and parsley on the window-sill.  Yes, the gadgets for keeping them watered had worked.

“You're looking good, darlings,” she told them.  The place was unnaturally quiet but that would come to an abrupt end when she collected Thai, her Siamese, from a friend.  She missed his yowling.

Mrs Williams looked outside and tutted.  “Still there I see, you pesky little nuisances.” She shut the back door with a hearty slam.  “We'll see about that!”

Minutes later she returned with a large kettle full of boiling water. “Take that!” she said as she poured the scalding stream on the trails of ants crossing outside the back door.