It was 1:30PM.

Chuck Stephens stared at the barely half eaten bowl of pepperjack tomato soup on the table in front of him. His appetite had dragged him away from his desk, but now it shrank almost as fast as it had come. It was understandable; he felt like a felon having his last meal. In less than four hours, he would be fired from his job at The Daily Occurrences. This was unless, of course, he could find a story for his editor. The publication had a quota of ten stories a week, a figure that was a considerable step up from the three to four that had been required at his old job in his more rural hometown. In his two months of working there he had not once met the quota, and his editor was hounding him more and more. The situation was not helped by the fact that Chuck had not gotten on with his editor since the beginning for reasons that were completely unknown. But even some of the stories he had gotten published had taken him for quite a ride.

“The grammatical errors in your writing are completely unacceptable!” Lanard Glass, his editor, had barked at him at the end of his first day with the publication. In the stress to keep up with his new workload, the quality of his writing had decreased. He had promised to do better.

This month had been his last chance. For the first couple of weeks he thought he would be safe. Then, he began to struggle. It was finding stories. It was always finding stories. Sure, finding a few wasn't too hard, but ten? It suddenly felt as if there wasn't enough going on in the world, a feeling that was somehow absurd and painfully true. But that wasn't even the worst of it. He had written forty seven stories this month, one shy of the required forty eight. And when he failed to write one more by five, he'd be gone. He had nothing.

The stress had made him skip breakfast. By noon he was experiencing a bizarre combination of feeling ill and hungry at the same time. Finally, he dragged himself from his desk to go lunch. Maybe a break would offer some kind of inspiration...or at least give him a chance to dust off his resume. But as he sat, seated at the outside patio of a small cafe and looking at busy lives passing around him, he felt as if his time was up. He'd be out of a job by the end of the day.

That was when he felt the first quake.

You step out into the warm afternoon weather. The sky is clear and the sun feels nice. There is nothing but long plains of land as far as the eye can see. The smile comes easily. It's beautiful here. Even more so than you could have ever hoped.

Stopping, you pull in a deep breath, your lungs filling with crisp, clean air. A calm peace fills you, as well as a unmistakable feeling of hope. This is it. This is home. You can already feel it. There's no rational reason for this. You've seen this before. Many times. But the feeling is there and it cannot be denied. This time will be different. So long as you're careful.

That makes you look down and you see it. A sharp ache of panic hits you, forcing you take a small step back. You stare down at the small city for a moment, hearing screams of surprise and fear. As usual. Your heart begins to ache. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and try to grab onto that feeling of hope. This is your first contact with this new world and it would be terribly rude if you didn't at least say hi.

Carefully, you bend forward a little, placing both hands on both knees, moving slowly so the purse doesn't slide of your shoulder.

Later that night, Chuck would think it was like the scene from Jurassic Park. When the T-Rex broke out of the fence. First he felt something, which broke him out of his troubled mind for a moment. His first thought had been an earthquake, but that couldn't be it. It had felt like a jolt, like a distant explosion. It had been faint, but he had definitely felt it. Then, came another. This one rattled the dishes on his table, the water in his glass rippling. Not everyone had felt the first one, but almost everyone around him had felt the second one. People stopped eating and in mid conversation and looked around, confused. A waiter who had been passing by paused.

The next quake threatened to have the whole table topple over. Chuck could hear the glass windows of the cafe rattle in their frames. Cars came to a halt on the busy roads. Some people screamed. Then, Chuck actually felt his chair lift off the ground by what felt like a foot. The cafe itself seemed to rattle, a large crack tearing into the window to Chuck, whose chair somehow managed to land without toppling over. His small table was not so lucky and his glass and soup bowl loudly shattered on the concrete. Instinctively, Chuck got to his feet. To do what? He didn't know. Nor would he find out as he was soon sent sprawling onto the ground, accompanied by a shower of broken glass as all the windows of the cafe exploded.

Screams. Screaming. Car alarms. Burglar alarms. A cacophony of din tried to make it past the ringing in his ears. Dazedly, he began to try and get back to his feet. People were running, panicked. Several of them cast terrified looks up towards the sky. Grabbing the rail that surrounded the outside seating area of the cafe, Chuck Stephens began to hoist himself, glancing up towards the sky.

He froze.

At first he saw massive black wall loomed over the city, soaring over the skyscrapers. His eyes trailed upwards, but all they saw was more black. He craned his neck and that was when he froze in a moment that would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. It was impossible that it was anything else but a coincidence, an accident. Complete happenstance. He knew that. But it still sent chills down his spine every time he recounted the memory.

For a brief moment, he made eye contact with her.

There was no mistaking what it was. He could see everything from his lowly vantage point and she was so much bigger. He could see the legs, two impossibly large towers; then he saw her bend and he could see the curves of her hips and waist and then the swell of a generous bosom. Her hair swayed behind her with her movement and would have draped down beside her if not held in place by a black, wide brimmed hat. The brilliant whiteness of her blouse was almost as bad as directly looking into the sun itself. He even saw the black purse that gently bounced off her hip as she bent.

He saw it all.

Not only saw it. A fragrance hit his nose. It was not unpleasant, quite the opposite actually, but it was powerful and he coughed slightly. He could hear the leather in her pants react to her movements. His senses were being assaulted, and his brain was actively trying to reject all of it. Because what his senses were reporting was impossible. A headache began to roar in his skull.

She smiled, her red lips parting. Her right hand lifted from her knees. The fingers were wiggled downwards in a gesture Chuck had seen many women do before.

Hello.

Then, she straightened and raised a foot. Terror griped Chuck, who could only watch helplessly.

You carefully guide your foot over the length of the city before gently bringing it down on the opposite end. Then, you bring the other foot over, making sure the tip of your boot doesn't scrape any of the buildings. The city is now safely behind you. For a moment, you glance down over your shoulder. Curiosity fills you and you want to stay and examine it. There are probably many beautiful things to behold. This world wasn't built for you; you know that, but it still fascinates you. But you also know that your arrival is completely unexpected. They're not ready. They might never be. But you continue to hope.

You turn your attention forward and scan the area ahead. There are more cities and towns ahead, filled with tiny reflections of yourself. You need to get your bearings quickly. This planet is as ready for you as its people, but it still welcomes you, already slowly adapting to your presence.

There will be more to do later. For now, you just want to explore. To see your new home and get a taste for the wonders it has to offer. The smile on your lips widens, you can't help it.

You carefully take a step and begin to walk.

His heart was racing. For a ungodly horrible moment, he had thought the massive sole of the titanic high heeled boot was going to come crashing down on his entire world. But it didn't. Instead, it glided over the city's skyline, offering a small shower of debris, before thudding down on the opposite side of the borders. The wind picked up with the movement, blowing some people off their feet. Then the other foot moved and the whole thing happened again.

Chuck followed her movements. Her back was now facing him, offering a rather fantastic view of her round rear which, from his perspective, looked like it could rival Mt. Everest. She turned and looked down over her shoulder. This time, their eyes did not meet, but he still felt a chill course through his body. Eventually, she turned forward and began to walk. The quake bounced him, the tables, the people, and all the cars around him at least a foot in the air. Then, only half a foot. Then, only a few inches. Then, it was just a jolt. Then, a rumble. Then, a soft tremor. Then nothings. She was gone.

It was several minutes before Chuck could let go of the railing, of which he had a death grip so strong that his knuckles were red. Around him was pure pandemonium. Debris that had been stuck to the massive woman's boots, as well as rubble that had fallen from the surrounding buildings littered the streets. Bits of glass were strewn all around. One car had actually rolled on its side. Many people were lying on the ground, some screaming, some sobbing in sheer terror. Chuck stumbled out onto the sidewalk. Without thinking, he glanced up at the sky.

He could still see her in the distance. She had to miles from the city by now and yet...

Slowly, the ringing in his ears finally faded and was replaced by sirens; bot police and the ones for tornadoes. Cars were honking as their frightened passengers attempted to evacuate the area. Further down the street, one of the traffic posts had completely fallen over, taking a large billboard off the side of a building with it. The buildings themselves had, somehow, remained standing, but many windows were broken and some sagged noticeably as their support structures were weakened. Some might still collapse; they definitely would if the massive woman were to return. A few cops were visible, spinning in circles like frightened children, seeing everything and not knowing how to respond.

“Hey, buddy!” A hand clamped on Chuck's shoulder, making him jump almost as high as the quakes had earlier. A well dressed man, possibly the manager of the cafe or just a business man out on lunch like him, stood there. His eyes were wide, his hair, which had traces of gel in it, was frayed. Dust and debris coated his suit. The man looked around at the destruction. “What the hell just happened? Was it a bomb? Is it another terrorist attack?”

Chuck stared at the man in the suit for a moment. Then, he slowly shook his head.

“A woman.” He rasped. His own voice sounded distant and unfamiliar.

“A what?”

“A woman.” Chuck repeated. He raised a hand and held it high. “A big one.”

“A big...? What are you talking about?”

Wordlessly, Chuck redirected his raised hand. The man followed it. His wide eyes somehow widened more. “What...?” She had receded in the horizon quite a bit, but everything from the shoulders up was still visible...particularly the wide black hat.

Chuck didn't wait to hear more. He began to stagger down the sidewalk like a man lost in a dream. The only thing that he felt for sure was that he didn't feel safe out here. He didn't know if he'd feel safe inside either. To be honest, he wasn't sure he'd ever feel safe ever again. But he had to get out of here, had to somehow move on. His car, if it still existed, would was parked in the garage aside the Daily Occurrences, which was only down the block from here.

As he rounded the corner, he only saw more chaos. Traffic had come to a complete halt. Cars seemed to be abandoned. He saw a few flashing lights ahead. Some smoke was drifting off something in the distance. People were either running, standing around dazed, or holding up their phones and filming. Some were crying, some were screaming. Some managed to do both. Across the street, a group of people were attempting to lift another fallen billboard up as others attempt to reach for something, or someone, underneath. A young woman crying hysterically shoved past Chuck, nearly tripped over herself, and sprinted around the corner towards the cafe. One older man was sitting against the side of one of the buildings holding his temples, a large stream of blood running down one of his cheeks. He didn't look up as Chuck sauntered past, only stared at the ground.

Most of the windows in the face of the Daily Occurrences building were shattered. One of the American flags that hung on either side of the main entrance had fallen off, stained with footprints. A chunk of the building had fallen off and smashed a van parked out front. Usually Chuck would require his keycard to access the building, but the doors were also smashed so there was no need.

The front lobby was dark. Either because the lamps were damaged (a few had fallen from their fixtures) or the power grid itself had been knocked out. None of the receptionists were at their posts and many unfamiliar faces were huddled inside. The only familiar face was Gerald Briggins, a black security guard who was better at snacking than dealing with a situation such as this.

“Chuck!” Briggins called upon seeing him. “What in God's name happened out there? Are we under fucking attack?”

“I don't know.” Stephens replied, his voice still sounding wrong to his own ears. It was easier to lie. Eventually he would know.

“Sounded like bombs!” Panic shone in the guard's eyes. “Like big bombs! Sounded like the whole city damn blew up!”

Chuck simply kept moving. His mind was racing and his head was aching. He didn't bother with the elevators. The stairwell was dark. Fumbling in his pocket, he managed to find his phone. Fortunately, it still worked, responding to his touch, but a crack stood out on the screen. He powered on its flashlight and began to mount the steps. The sounds of panic and confusion throughout the building echoed in the long stairwell and it sounded like the ravaging of several wailing ghosts. He shivered. At one point, a lamp from up above came crashing down, shattering against the railing near him, causing him to cry out and almost drop his phone. If he lost it now, he'd easily be lost in the darkness. He paused for a few moments, breathing deeply to try and stay his racing heart, counting in his mind to keep him focused so he wouldn't fall to panic. When he reached one hundred and fifty, he continued.

At last, the beam of light found the floor number that he worked on. He had to push the door hard as the jamb had slanted a bit from the impacts. When he was finally through, he found the majority of his fellow writers huddled around the desks. Some of them lingered towards what was left of the windows, craning their necks to see what was going on. Among the group was Lanard Glass, who was shouting orders at anyone who was listening.

“Stay away from the windows!” He was roaring. “The building might not be safe! We should evacuate everyone!”

“I'm not going out there!” Leslie Milton, an associate editor, cried. “There might be more explosions!”

“It wasn't explosions!” Jacob Rimsley, a young intern, shouted back. “It was some giant monster! I saw it! Something walked over the city!”

“If the building collapses on us it won't matter WHAT it was!” Lanard screamed. “We need...!” The Senior Editor stopped in mid sentence, having spotted the employee he would have fired in less than four hours. “Chuck!” He gasped.

“I think I have a story for you, Mr. Glass.” Chuck Stephens said in a voice sod dazed and lowly it was almost a whisper. For the third time, Chuck was asked just what in the hell happened outside. “Jacob's right. It was woman. A big one.”

“See!” The intern cried from his position at the window.

“What do you mean a 'big woman'?” Lanard barked. “If this is supposed to be some kind of joke, Chuck, I'm...”

“It's not. I saw her. I saw everything. A gigantic woman just walked over the city.”

“That's...but...but that's...” Mr. Glass didn't finish. He could only shake his head in disbelief.

“I saw her too!” Jacob called. “I mean...I only saw one of her feet, but I saw her heels! She was wearing boots! High heeled ones! My girlfriend has a pair just like 'em!”

“Lanard, I'm telling you...I know how it sounds,” Chuck said softly. “But I saw it. Those weren't a series of explosions. They were footsteps.”

“But Chuck that's not possible,” Glass replied, still shaking his head. His resolve was fading, but only a little.

“He's not lying!” A new voice rang out. Old Paul Wallace, one of the oldest employees in the building, came limping out. In his arms he carried a portable radio that looked to be a couple years older than Chuck himself. Static was garbling out of it, but when Old Paul set it down on the nearest desk and fiddled with its long antenna, a series of voices came out.

“...again, what are you seeing?”

“We're seeing...what ARE we seeing? It looks like...it looks like some kind of...woman?”

“A woman?”

“Yes, I think so. I...I, yes, that's what it looks like. Some...towering woman.”

A series of confused voices follow before someone comes back on mic.

“Can you describe this...'woman'?”

“Yes...uh...well...tall. But, she's wearing mostly black, except...except for a white blouse. I think the black is all leather. A hat. A hat too. Wide brimmed hat. Also black. Long hair. Brunette. Dark. And...is that a purse? It looks like a purse...my god it is. It really is, my god, holy shit, there's a giant fucking woman just...walking...”

More off mic babble. Everyone in the office was now gathered around Paul and his radio.

“Okay...how you said this...'woman' was big. How big would you say?”

“I...huge. Very huge. Can you hear those sounds?”

A low booming sound was faintly heard through the speakers. They were dull and rhythmic. Familiar.

“Uh...yes. Yes, we hear that...”

“That's just her walking...she's just walking...”

“How big is she? Can you confirm?”

“I think...I...my god...”

“Can you confirm? A hundred feet?”

“I'd say a couple of miles...”

A pause.

“Did..I'm sorry, did you say miles?”

“Yes. A couple at least...except...no...bigger. Much bigger.”

“Bigger? Bigger than a couple of miles?”

“...yes...yes I think so. I can't say. But...my god...this isn't happening...”

“Uh...ladies and gentlemen, we're unsure what to make of this...as you just heard live with us there is apparently some kind of...mile tall woman walking around and...Frank, are you...are you sure that's what you're seeing?”

Static suddenly swelled from the speakers.

“...ight be headed towards you!”

“You cut off Frank, can you...uh...can you....”

A loud thud comes through the feed.

“...did you guys feel that?”

A burst of loud static tears through and there is no more. The ensuing silence is broken by Jacob.

“I told you.” He says. His enthusiasm is gone. Now he just looks confused.

“A giant woman...” Paul says, looking around. “I can't believe it. Did...did all of you see her? I was in my office, and I...” He trails off.

“I saw her foot...” Jacob offers weakly.

Lanard stares at the intern for a moment longer before his eyes turn towards Chuck Stephens.

“You said you saw everything?” Lanard Glass, Senior Editor of The Daily Occurrences, asked.

“Yes sir,” Chuck replied. “Yes sir I did.”