3 Nephi 8

Given the time-frame,

people started to look for the next Samuel the Lamanite sign: three days of darkness. It was controversial, as you might expect.

But in Year 34, first month, fourth day—and we’ve confirmed these stats carefully with reliable witnesses—an enormous storm brewed in the mountains. It was huge, the biggest recorded in our admittedly primitive meteorological history. Lightning smacked the ground. The thunder definitely deafened. We just weren’t used to this sort of weather. Skull-slapping indeed.

One strike hit Zarahemla and ignited it. Moroni (the city) flooded, drowning most of its citizens. A huge mudslide buried Moronihah.

Some of the south escaped such natural disasters, which pummeled the north. The New World’s penchant for earthquakes had not been contemplated—till now. Roads broke apart (they weren’t that strong anyway, but still …). From sinkholes to landslides, tumbling walls and rolling stones, the landscape marred itself into a parody of every map. Cities submerged or flamed out, crumbled or collapsed. No way to know how many died. Whole neighborhoods, suburbs, housing projects, office buildings, factories and barns. Any cities you could still see had nothing left to claim but a few shattered souls. The ground seemed a patchwork of seams. The hills oozed.

All this lasted three hours. Then, though it was still day, the air blackened. It was a wet darkness, as though oil had turned gaseous. But nothing could be lit, candles, torches, firewood, nothing. This blackness lasted three days, as predicted, though really, no one could tell for sure, since one only knew the passing of time from the stench of bodies and the drying of tongues. Sundials—a joke. It was as if the earth had developed a fever, gone delirious with fright. The moaning and howling of the dead and crazed. The infectiousness of despair.

Some in their gloom muttered, “If we’d only repented none of this would have happened.” Maybe. Nature is a monster with a flowery face.

Could anything have gone better? Could anything have gone worse? It’s done, no erasures. Once the story’s engraved in the landscape you can’t scratch it out. You can only make it worse.