Richard stood alone on his back porch, staring at the approaching dark clouds. The hot, stale air was replaced with cool, quick flowing wind. He could tell that these clouds were showering the city below from the fog that seemed to fall from the dark billiowing clouds. This was the first parcipitation Cloverfield had seen in a month and a half. The end of the drought would mean to many the end of dying gardens, But to Richard Peck, it meant the end of the world.

For the last 2 weeks, Richard’s sleep was haunted by dreams of an abnormaly tall man carrying a sword of gold and a whip of fire. Behind him was always a pack of starving dogs that lashed out at eachother as they scowred the land for food, and above him was a raging storm.

Richard sat down in his bench and propped his legs up on a stump he used for that purpose. “Just a dream Rich,” He told himself, “Just a few dreams.”

Meanwhile, downtown, a bolt of lightning struck the middle of the road, produceing a 9 ft. tall man and 7 jet black dogs.