“Here, you’re going to have to patch yourself up, we can’t stay here anymore.” The man sighed.

“Good luck.” And just like that, the EMT zipped up his bag, stood up and jogged to the ambulance. As Philip stood, the man turned to him at the door.

“A military convoy was supposed to be here half an hour ago, but they may have called it off, or they’re running late. If they’re late, wait at the main road, they’ll have to be blind to miss you.”

Phil got to his feet, limping back towards his house. Behind him, people were shouting names, trying to find others in the scattering crowd heading towards the main road as the rest yelled urgently to each other, trying to communicate quickly from a distance. The ambulance sped down the road with its lights and siren, turning sharply at the end of the street towards the main highway, fortunate enough to be leaving behind a broken town, a powerful goddess and the sound of mountains crumbling under the mass of a moaning Gisele.

By the time he reached his broken doorway, the crowd had disappeared. The neighborhood had turned into a ghost town and the dust cloud had covered half the sky above him.

“Julie!” Philip yelled into the house as he walked into the living room, looking at the damage as his eyes swept the room for any sign of them.

“Kids? Anyone?”

And then he heard it. The sound was quiet, subtle and a bit muffled now that he was inside his broken house, but Philip knew better. To him, it was distinctive, powerfully quiet, frighteningly subtle and demanding attention and awe.

BOOM…

The whole house started shaking; tenderly at first, almost bobbing. The floorboards creaked and rattled, shards of glass chimed as they quivered on the ground.

But then the earth heaved beneath him and in an instant, the gentle rolling tremors turned into a full onset earthquake. Philip pressed himself up against a wall, using it for support as the house swayed around him, the reverberation outside growing into a nearly deafening, continuous sound of rolling thunder.

“Julie! Children?” Philip screamed, more urgently than ever. He watched nervously as dust began pouring from the fractured ceiling, the structure of his house rattling helplessly like chattering teeth. He quickly made his way to the front door, looking around, covering his head as parts of the ceiling shook free, watching for any signs of his family. The house began creaking; the glass rattling and the floorboards vibrating. Martz nervously grabbed onto the shuddering doorframe and took a step into it. He looked out over the houses and the mountains in front of him, greeted with a sight that burned forever into his memory…

Though the dust clouds over the town obstructed his view, there was no question as to what was standing, unfolding behind the walls of ashes flowing over the mountains before him.

He watched silently from his shuttering doorway as smoke bulged upwards before a rising entity of dirty, tanned skin and grimy hair burst forth through the bubble. And with the clouds of dust cascading off her naked body like water, Philip watched as her head emerged, bent over towards the ground, rising higher into the sky. Her wide eyes somber, her hair no longer golden but muddled orange/brown, smoke billowing out of her dirty mane like a bundle of smokestacks.

She continued to rise, straightening out her back; the dust pouring sensually, as if caressing her, off her shoulders, down through her shifting cleavage between massive, slowly swaying breasts and the toned plains of her stomach. She rose faster and faster, gaining momentum as his house tremble more and more violently. He tore his eyes away from the goddess and turned his head towards the living room as his house began crying out in agony. It first groaned and creaked before snapping and crumbling into a frighteningly deafening tone. Deep inside his house, Philip could hear the sound of a pipe bursting.

“Julie!” He screamed hopelessly, letting go of the doorframe before hesitantly backed away from his house. Struggling to stay on his feet as the ground beneath him quaked; he turned towards the goddess as he ran for the main road.

Gisele’s slender hips and supple thighs emerged slowly, seductively from the ashes as she slowly came to a halt at full height. And with the goddess now standing, the quakes Orleans experienced now dwindled into a light tremor, no longer suffering under her shifting mass. Her grimy arms were limp at her side, her smudged mountainous breasts rising and falling to her breaths, small debris and ashes visibly falling from her supple cliffs.

But Philip was too busy running for his life. Now at a full sprint, he flew down the street, making out the small crowd ahead of him as they scrambled around a house and out of sight, screaming in panicking at the sight of the goddess towering over them. A few stopped as they turned their heads to catch a glimpse at the goddess, slowing down to a stop as a glimpse turned into a gawk and a gawk turned into a stare. A few broke out of their trance, catching up with the fleeing crowd, the rest being pulled away by other members that came back for them.

His lungs burned, his back ached, his mouth arid and irritating. He began to slow down, unable to keep up his terrified pace. His sweat poured out of every pore and as the last people in the crowd began to turn the corner down the street, the last few Philip could see screamed abruptly, pointing towards the goddess before they too, fled with renewed vigor past the yellow house and out of sight.

Philip, now at a measly jog, turned his head towards the goddess, watching with widening eyes as Gisele looked down before her, appearing to head straight towards the helpless town as her hips flexed and the ash cloud swept around them.

He watched as her hip swayed for a step and the ground beneath him trembled with increasing strength, the air broadcasting the sound of earth’s futile defeat from the shifting weight of the goddess. So with a motivated and renewed vigor, Philip again sprinted down the street in his second wind, hopelessly drawn to the reality of how pointless it was to flee, on foot, from something so powerful as to be able to crush his entire town underneath two mountainous, firm breasts.

His thoughts were short-lived as the first tremors reached Orleans, the echo of a massive, earth-crushing footstep encompassing the town. The earth heaved beneath his unsteady gait, a scream-inducing pain searing up his left ankle, the ground rushing towards him, his shoulder painfully striking the ground, his head quickly following it and into the darkness.

Philip woke to the faint sound of a distant rockslide, his ankle searing in agony. Philip rolled onto his back, gritting his teeth in pain. His head throbbed and his vision was blurred. The noise continued to crescendo, reaching a near deafening peak before a decrescendo into a low rumble. He blinked several times as his eyes began to focus before looking at his twisted ankle. He reached out to cradle it as he shot his eyes toward the goddess towering over him.