Manolo says, the Manolo he has of late been feeling unsettled, nervousy, on edge. There is the atmosphere of dark foreboding, as if something terrible were about to happen.
The portents they have not been good.
The pets of the neighbors of the Manolo they have been skittish; the dogs they have whined and snapped, and the cats they have hissed without provocation. And now the carrion birds are roosting in the trees near the house.
Each day it has dawned darker than the last.
Worst of all, yesterday, the Manolo thought he had heard the muffled sound of thundering hooves, as if the massive hoard of ravening Mongols were riding fast down upon our peaceful hamlet.
And now, with the news of this day, it all becomes hideously apparent:
Destruction! Death! The End of Civilization as We Know It!
The last time, the devestation it was as complete as the ten plagues that were visited upon Egypt by the angry God.