After a tumultuous thunderstorm at precisely 3am - the Witching Hour - this morning, the skies over Horsingdon have finally cleared; yet in its wake the grey shroud of cloud cover has left another mystery: photographed earlier this evening, the residuum of what appears to be an inverted pentagram sketched in smoke above the Horsingdon skyline.
A random arrangement of clouds, deceptively fashioned into an act of signification by the cognitive misfiring of our pattern-recognition systems and pareidolia? Contrails produced by Ministry aircraft as part of some great, conspiritorial ritual? Or perhaps something even worse: the portent of other horrors which will wrack the skies and landscape of Horsingdon - horrors conjectured by the unformed and immaterial geometries of a terrible symbology; horrors unimaginable, but yet to come.
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