The Rift

The world spins around me. Cars fly past, people move quickly, and the wind howls through the busy streets of New York City. It hasn’t been this bad in a while. People hang on to their flubbering coats and jackets while covering themselves from the harsh storm. No rain has fallen yet, no thunder has roared. Just the violent movements of the wind are enough to get everyone up on their toes.

My long hair is waving along with the indecisive blasts. I gave up trying to hold the dancing strands together a while ago. I stop for a second and look over to the tall rooftops on my right. Something odd catches my eye as I stand and watch for a second. The people rage by me, blind to the world around them. Mindlessly hurrying to their life-changing appointments.

I see it again, a flickering light. It holds something majestic, something beautiful. It appears again and again. Sparks are flying over the tall buildings of the city, starting to converge ever so jittery. Their origins are shifting and colliding. Rapidly flying through the skies, wandering over the rooftops, free as a bird.

Lights and colours roam freely, but chaotically. They seem to be desperately searching for their counterparts. From their interwinding links come beautiful flashes of magical colours. I feel happy, amazed. Stunned by an otherworldly beauty.
The final sparks link up. A seemingly random pattern emerges. I’m still standing amidst the busy crowds. Fascinated by the phenomenon, which was forming a visual crack in the harmonious sky.

In an instant, the final shocks of energy shoot over, from troubled blue skies come a blast of celestial power. A shockwave hits the city.
As the people finally take their eyes off the floor and look up at the divine entity, a containership blasts out of the crack, bludgeoning through concrete walls and sturdy skyscrapers like a sledgehammer. Sailing through the city like its navigating open waters.
As foretold, the rift has opened.