At first I thought it was an earthquake. The entire world shuddered and groaned as if some massive thing was under the surface trying to shake off the cities we built on its back. I had never been in an earthquake before, my curiosity got the best of me, I was curious how the buildings looked, I heard they sway.
So in between juddering slams, when our vases, books and plates would fall from their shelves, I slid between the tumbled furniture towards a window. The skies were black with smoke. I couldn’t believe how much destruction the ground shaking would cause, but here was evidence before my own eyes. Fires rages across the city, I could hear car alarms set off by the motion, and sirens and screams. So many screams.
It took several moments before I realized that the sun wasn’t being blocked out by smoke. I was in the shadow of the earthquake. In myths you always hear about a serpent under the ground, or a smith hammering away. But this was different. These were not hammer falls, this earthquake was not sunken beneath the hills and streets. This earthquake was the footsteps of an angry god.