Many thanks, as always, to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
My small town had been behaving strangely before I chained myself to my computer to complete the promised last dozen chapters of my novel. When I ventured into town intent on restocking my empty pantry, I paused, astonished.
About 80% of the fine people of Landstowne stood in the town center, glowing like gender-proud aliens, pink and blue.
“Annihilate the different.”
If I squinted, I could discern Ray and Ethel, the Morrisons. And Preacher Willis?
Were they speaking in tongues? No, some words I discerned: hate, them, death.
Preacher Willis turned toward me, pointed, his eyes death rays: “Different!”