On a fateful noon at somewhere in Africa, so abnormal she had been carrying this said the midwife rubbing her hand against the protruded tummy of a pregnanted virgin surely this must be her first trial. Suddenly the heavens voiced out and the tunder echoed from a distance above, the flurry had come and gone but the fierce of the clang windows, moody weather and maids running helter and skelter insearch of domestic minor chores really invited more worries. Surely it did going to rain said the passersby for the sky had looked so dim the cloud so puffed and pompous vexed in its looks. I wondered who and what had angered it, could it be the Angel or other celestial bodies at that moment the wind spanked against the sky and the heavens descended its fury inform of lightning with a large range of brightness showing its pregnant cloud filled moist. A cry from the inside a baby is born but the virgin had failed farewell as she pathed in despair letting her infant alone in this so cold so damp world. The heavens sobbed inform rain for her demise as the cloud bust open. So the sad cloud was an Omen, said the midwife.
