She wrote at night, streaking the wall with crimson paint and demonic black scrawls. Swirls and waves and death and pain. The moon provided a teaspoon of resentful light. In the morning, the townsfolk chased her away, ignoring the warnings she’d painted. Crazy witch, they muttered. Birds screamed off into the pale sun and rodents scurried for high ground. Horses refused their feed. Late that afternoon it came, with a shrieking wind and a sudden crack. Then there was water. So much water. It covered the town and the wall and the warning. A raven circled overhead for days.
Prompt and pic via the Carrot Ranch