He had red hair, red skin and redder eyes.
Like something out of a tale told to frighten naughty children … conjured from feverish imaginations as they stare into the flickering fire.
It was on the kind of day that the old women dreaded.
Hotter than hell.
That sort of heat that was unapologetic in its cruelty.
Heat that overpowers the senses, the type that goes beyond feeling.
An assualt that you can hear, smell and taste on the cracked parchment that used to be your tongue.
Many could not stand the onslaught.
Silently, their breaths were stolen in that orange afternoon when the world stood still.
Yes I remember.
It was the kind of heat the defied men into inanimation.
Sitting still for hours.
Only shifting surreptitiously when the shade threatened to abandon them.
The red man came… walking through the haze … a shadow … a snake… a twisted skeleton … then a man.