When the red rain fell out of a clear sky, accompanied by a foul, burning stench, the village considered it to be the worst kind of omen.
The priest conducted an impromptu service in the church so that he might prepare our souls for what was coming next. He ranted before a packed house, speculating on the sins that had brought this punishment down upon us from Heaven.
I was the only one brave enough to stick out my tongue and taste the falling drops. It was worse than they thought.
The tomato juice factory two towns over had exploded.