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PROLOG
After a long and exhausting but even so rewarding trip, MARO tiredly, but thoroughly self-contented, collapsed into the old creaky rocking chair on the front porch of her small, but super-cozy house on the beach.
The incessant chattering seagulls that settled down on the porch’s handrail, promptly cleared off, as MARO expertly popped open her well-earned beer.
Or was it that daunting rumble from the dark along the glowing purple-tinted evening sky, responsible for the gulls sudden depart?
Just before M∆RO finished his thought about the obviously wrong weather forecast this morning, another, even closer and louder rumble made M∆RO beer-spillingly cringe. She stepped off the porch, to check the eerie rumbling noise's source.
What she then saw, sent a blistering chill down her spine. She dropped the beer, while just standing there for a few seconds, paralyzed, eyes and mouth wide open, gazing into the distance.
Once recovered, she panicky rushed back into the house, where she frantically stuffed anything that looked promising enough, to extend her survival in the imminent, dark and uncertain future into her purple hiking backpack, lashed it all together and started running…
