❝ They knew the world would not be the same.
A few people laughed,
a few people cried,
most were silent. ❞
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godzilla, mothra, rodan, ghidorah & the rest of the characters belong to their respective properties
Alan drove down the winding road through the canyon that lead to the oil fields, admiring the view as he always did.
For forty years, he'd been taking this same drive, and for forty years he still found something to love about it. He remembered his father bringing him here, telling him that the canyon's stone, carved by mother nature's hands herself, had existed since the Permian period. And he remembered taking his kids, playing in one of the nearby creeks and looking for fossilized shells from a land lost to time. Alan has always been a paleontologist at heart, but that wasn't as reliable a job as working at the pipeline.
When he reached the field, pulling his truck around the small metal shed that passed for an office, he stepped out into the Arizona heat. He stood there for a moment, fingers hooked in the belt loops of his coveralls as he watched the rig's pumpjacks bobbing up and down like the drinking bird toy he had as a kid. They were, of course, drinking oil rather than water - or as his daughter Lucy liked to put it, "sucking the earth's blood".
There were other workers around, and about half a mile away he saw the government guys that hung around the area running around like chickens without heads. He squinted, they weren't usually this busy. A couple years back, they had taken some land near the fields, the reason being some sort of bio-hazard. It didn't matter to him, just so long as they didn't interfere with his work.
"Hey, Alan." Sawyer said, sticking his head out of the shed.
He nodded, clocking in.
"You get my text?" he asked.
"No, why?" Alan asked, pulling his phone out.
"It's your seismograph. Was goin' nuts not too long ago." he led him inside.
"Huh.." Alan hummed to himself. That thing was something he had helped his son, Evan, build nearly thirty years ago. It was mostly for fun, as his son had a knack for that sort of thing. Looking at it now, Sawyer was right. The usually flat line was now a mess of scribbles, as if there had just been an earthquake. As he watched, waves continuing to spike, he felt a rumble beneath his feet. The shed had also begun to rattle.
"You think it's one of the rigs?"
"I dunno, but I don't like it."
Alan stepped outside, looking at the field with a more critical gaze.
"I don't -"
The ground beneath him exploded, and something long and dark jutted out of it, arching over like a giant hook. He stepped back inside so hard he banged his arm against the door.
