Mr. Dean knows about the bad omen associated with blood red skies. He always thought: “is this phenomenon real or just a figurative description of some bad shit that happened to people?” This question never received another thought or consideration until the night before Chritmas in 1999 when his wife became deathly ill.

The weather was calm, the sky was not red par say, but was near red in colour; it was more like brown than red but the uncertainties within Dean’s mind started conjuring a red sky. Human thoughts can be very powerful.

Mr Dean called for the doctor. By the time the doctor could arrive, his wife had died, or so it seemed.

Her husband was so grief stricken that he locked himself in his room and began chanting lamentations to the sky. “Why me, blood red sky, why me?” he asked. “Why would you go this extent to teach me the mysteries behind your colouration?” Everyone tried to calm him down, but he refused to be consoled. As I watched in amazement, I was left with no option than to wonder too: did the sky and its colouration have a hand in the entire event?