Feb 5
The sky broke.
Something began to descend.
A collective gasp, ragged and hoarse, tore through the quiet afternoon. Conversations died in throats, coffee cups clattered to the ground, and the familiar scent of fried onions and stale cigarettes was replaced by ozone and something ancient, like dust from the beginning of time.
There they were.
Four impossibly vast figures, straddling beasts that seemed woven from storm clouds and starlight, not flesh and blood. They hung in the air, not flying, but simply existing above the stunned populace, their forms casting shadows that stretched out like grasping claws over the diner, the hardware store, the empty swings in the park.