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#pre date

The sky was just dusking as Stella emerged from the diner. She knew that she should just head on home. It had been long day at work and Winnie had called her during it, so she needed to return that call. But... But... Like a siren’s song, the fence sang in her blood. It was almost like a physical need, like whatever energy pulsed between the poles had entered her veins and called for a response.

“Just a minute,” she murmured to herself. She would pass through the center of town and trail along the perimeter of the fence and follow it until she reached the street where her house now resided. Perfectly innocent -- just taking the scenic route home. She was not obsessed, thank you very much, Winnie.

Her journey paused, though, hit a snag, half way through. She forgot that the center of town meant Town Hall. It meant pitted concrete and blood stains and boarded windows... In Greek mythology, gods bled ichor. Slippery, metallic golden fluid. Angels, they all learned, just bled blood. Sticky and thick and bubbling. Just like humans.

An evening breeze picked up Stella’s hair but she was locked, immobile. This was where it had all ended and all started. Old world and new world colliding, the resulting implosion sending ripples across the earth as they knew it. And anyone could tell you, those closest to the blast were the most affected.