Somewhere in my dreams or another world.

A flash of light.

Muffled thunder in the distance.

Drizzle of rain, the breeze cool and slight.

Picturesque view of a green landscape. Low rolling hills with a dirt road winding between them.

Sporadic groups of trees are scattered about. A lone-grown maple stands out atop a hill close by. At the foot of the tree, two young men stand by an open grave that they did not dig.

"It's funny I tell ya." The one with the shovel says as he throws another scoop of dirt back in the grave.

"You're an idiot." Says the second one.

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"I'm telling you; it’s going to be funny. When they get here tomorrow. When they try to put the old guy to rest. There's going to be someone already here."

"Can't believe you made all that effort to bring him over here because you think it's going to be funny."

"Had to hide him somewhere. Not like no one is ever going to not find him. This way, with all the people coming, no one will be able to track anything, including us."

"What's funny is you, thinking he had money to steal because he had that sword."

Throwing the shovel upon his shoulder, holding it with one hand, the other on his hip. "That thing is a piece of crap. Not even sure if it's supposed to be a sword. Looked like someone was trying to make something."

"Ahhhhhhhhh" a girl screams in the distance.

"Looks like Fred found her." the second one says. "I'm going back before he does anything that costs us money."

Driving the shovel into the loose dirt, to stand it up. "Just a sec". Looking into the grave, the body with a couple of shovels fulls of dirt on it. "Making sure we didn't miss anything. Ever see him before?"

"I haven't" the second turning and starting to walk away.

Another scream, this time closer. The wind now picking up, the sound of rain coming, but still a drizzle here.

The first picks up the sword. Walks over to the head of the grave and drives it into the ground. "There, now it's a headstone."

CRACKkkkkk... BOOOOMMMMMMMMmm..... Lightning strikes the lone tree. Electricity flashing and arcing down as it searches for ground. The first, dead at that moment, his charred hand still on the pommel. The second, farther away, but still thrown twice his height. The third, Fred, now closer, his hand gripping a girl’s arm, dragging her with him. Now temporarily blinded, seeing spots of lightning bolts before his eyes. The fourth, sitting up in a grave.