After a long and exhausting but even so rewarding trip, M∆RO tiredly, but thoroughly self-contented, collapsed into the old creaky rocking chair on the front porch of his small, but super-cozy house on the beach.

The incessant chattering seagulls that settled down on the porch’s handrail, promptly cleared off, as M∆RO racily popped open his well-earned beer. Or was it that daunting rumble from the dark and surrealistically purple-tinted evening sky, that quite-suddenly made them fly away?

Just before M∆RO finished his thought about the obviously wrong weather forecast this morning, another, even closer and louder rumble made M∆RO cringe. Hem stepped off the porch to check, where that eerie rumbling noise was emitted from.

What M∆RO then saw, sent a chill down his spine. He dropped the beer and after a short state of shock, hastily rushed back into the house, frantically stuffing as much important and valuable things into a backpack as possible and started running…