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This Might Become A Story

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Swerving to dodge the pillars of ice as they fall. Giant, like street lamps raining down on the city. Like ants we scramble for cover wherever it might show. Tall buildings have to be the safest. The higher floors might shield the lower ones long enough to think, but we all had the same idea. Buildings are full and barricaded to stop more people from squeezing into already packed places.

Looking at the street you’d believe everyone was outside hoping to get hit.

Heaven’s carpet bombing rattles the ground into an earthquake. Cracks form on the street and gradually tears it apart from the inside.
I’m barely dodging this ice nightmare from second to second. Five whole blocks of repeated close calls lead my old mustang crashing through the glass double doors of the local corporate soap company. It’s just empty enough to hit no one as I end what once was a beautiful lobby.

Safe and alive, I’m unhappily welcomed to the building. Behind me, a swarm of people begin to flood in through the gap left…