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There was a violent thunderstorm and without warning, a searing bright flash of lightening lit up the small park by the courthouse near Jack Gates’s second floor office. The bolt struck a leafless tree in the small West Virginia town setting it on fire. This seemed like an ominous event to Jack on Christmas Eve. The park was clearly visible from his window. The flash, which lasted less than a second, illuminated his silhouette next to a large malamute dog on his lap on the dark wood panel wall. He had been on the computer for hours in his large office; several times the lights had flickered menacingly. In the dead of winter, with a temperature of eight degrees Fahrenheit, was not a good time to lose light and heat. Snow continued to pile up beyond the reach of the snowplow he heard going by breaking the dead silence. It made his room seem like a tomb.
He looked through his window to see a flaming tree. Above the scene in the courthouse park, the sky was filled with grey clouds, which had hidden the sun for weeks. This added to the dreary world, that Jack lived in. For a moment he paused, the image of the shadow on the wall etched on his mind. “I am now in the Abyss,” he thought.