"I just want to bring fire to the people—and I want my cut" - Lex Luthor. 

Glowing embers of rata were carried in mossy boxes before the days of flint. Forceful gestures spun the world before gravity. But it doesn’t pay to think about that in depth. Below the deep blue sea a kernel was fertilised and soared somewhere over the treetops in Technicolor spectacularity. And without a second thought, I leaped in the deep end in an attempt to define the shallows, the shadows, the sparrows in the trenches, closing the shutters, I held my breath, and... And the dark side flowered up, sapping flows and the towers tumble down from their owners’ debts until it snows. The die was cast, the deck shuffled, and then the witches played solitaire together waiting around troubled cauldrons for some to die, some to shuffle off and some to be left in solitude. Alone then, the witches erred through the streets and met warlocks forming a search-net-watchtower guard all in tiered ranks, stalking like cats and sniffing like dogs, watching like hawks and soaring over the streets like eagles.

Pubished 2010 as Part One of "The Antichrist's Cookbook".