July 18th, 2014.

It began nowhere. It began everywhere. It began without warning; it began with all the warning in the world. It could have been prevented a thousand times over. There was nothing that anyone could have done.

It began on July 18th, 2014.

At 6:42 AM, EST, in a hotel in Columbus, Ohio, Susan Morris rolled over in her sleep and sighed. That was all; the starting bell of the apocalypse was a simple exhale by a sleeping woman unaware of the transformation going on inside her body. Marburg Amberlee and the Kellis cure fell dormant as their children, their beautiful, terrible children, swarmed through Susan's blood and into her organs, taking over every function and claiming every nerve. At 6:48 AM, Susan's body opened its eyes, and the virus looked out upon the world, and found that it was hungry. She would be found clawing at the door three hours later when the maids came to clean her room. The room did not get cleaned.

At 9:53 AM, CDT, in the city of Peoria, Illinois, a man named Michael Dowell was hit by a car while crossing the street at a busy intersection. Despite flying more than three yards through the air and hitting the ground with a bone-shattering degree of force, Michael climbed back to his feet almost immediately, to the great relief of bystanders and drivers alike. This relief turned quickly to bewilderment and terror as he lunged at the crowd, biting four people before he could be subdued. By nightfall, the first Peoria outbreak was well underway.

At 10:15 AM, PDT, in the town of Lodi, California, a woman named Debbie Goldman left her home and began jogging along her usual route, despite the already record-breaking heat and the recent warnings of her physician. Her explosive cardiac event struck at 11:03 AM. Death was almost instantaneous. Her collapse went unwitnessed, as did her subsequent revival. She staggered to her feet, no longer moving at anything resembling a jog. As she made her way along the road, she encountered a group of teenagers walking to the neighborhood AM/PM; three of the six were bitten in the struggle which followed. The Lodi outbreak began to spread shortly after two o'clock that afternoon.

At 11:31 AM, MDT, at the Colorado Cancer Research Center in Denver, Colorado, two of the patients from the Marburg Amberlee cancer trials went into spontaneous viral amplification as the live viral bodies already active in their systems were pushed into a form of slumber by the encroaching Kellis-Amberlee infection. The primary physician's administrative assistant, Janice Barton, was able to trigger the alarm before she was overtaken by the infected. The details of this outbreak remain almost entirely unknown, as the lab was successfully sealed and burned to the ground before the infection could spread. Ironically, Denver was the source point for one of the two viruses responsible for ending the world, and yet it was spared the worst ravages of the Rising until the second wave began on July 26th. Some will say that the tragedy which follows will come only because of that temporary reprieve; they weren't prepared. Those people will not be entirely wrong.

And so it went, over and over, all throughout North America. Some of the affected suffered nosebleeds before amplification began, signaling an elevated level of the Marburg Amberlee virus; others did not. Some of the affected would find themselves trapped in cars or hotel rooms, thwarted by stairs or doorknobs; others would not. The Rising had begun.

At 6:18 AM GMT on July 19th, in the city of London, England, a man waiting for the Central Line Tube to arrive and take him to work felt a warm wetness on his upper lip. He touched it lightly, and frowned at the blood covering his fingertips. He hadn't had a nosebleed since he was a boy. Then he shrugged, produced a tissue, and wiped the blood away. Nothing to be done.

And so it went, over and over, all throughout the world. The end was beginning at last.

***

Reports of unusually violent behavior are coming in from across the Midwest, leading some to speculate that the little brown bat, which has been known to migrate during warm weather, may have triggered a rabies epidemic of previously unseen scope...

When will you Rise?

Once upon a time there was a girl who...no. Wait.

That isn't how this goes.

Once upon a time there were a great many girls, and they did and were and knew and learned and loved and lost a great many things. Some of them were good girls and some of them were bad girls, some of them were nice girls and some of them were naughty girls, but most of them were a little bit of each kind of girl, beautiful patchwork people. Some of them were princesses and some of them were pirates. They were charmaids and scullery maids, ladies maids and goosegirls. They were ladies of good standing. They had dangerous reputations. They were fox girls and phoenix girls, autumn girls and summer girls, coyote girls and mermaid girls and every combination and everything in-between, and they were wonderful.

Some of those girls loved each other and some of those girls lost each other and some of those girls gave up on each other and some of those girls never found anyone at all. Some of them were loved and some of them were lonely. Some of them were happy on their own.

But sometimes, sometimes...sometimes, one of those girls would be walking in the wood, or on the beach, or in the pumpkin patch, or through the garden, and she would see someone up ahead, through the trees, through the seagrass, through the roses—someone who looked familiar, even though they'd never met before. And she would go running, that girl, our girl, with her bare feet in the sand or her high heeled slippers on the palace floor, running like her life depended on it. Sometimes the other girl would hear her coming, would stop, and turn, and wait. And when they met, they would look at each other, and ask a question. Always the same question, even if they didn't realize that they were asking it.

Now, do not think that they always loved each other. Some of them were too much alike, and hated each other on sight, or were even more alike than that, and cleaved together like two petals on a primrose. Some of them were indifferent to each other, too different to repel, too similar to attract. Many went their separate ways. But still, they asked their questions first, and had their answers.

"What took you so long?"

I am an autumn girl. I am a coyote girl. I am a pumpkin girl. I love crow girls and summer girls and fox girls and phoenix girls, mermaid girls and autumn girls and wild girls and lost girls, ocean girls and desert girls and fiddler girls and girls who sing like mockingbirds and laugh like falling leaves. I love my sailing ship girls who leave, and my lighthouse girls who stand to guide them home. And every time I have met one of them, one of my girls, I have asked her a question, even if I didn't know that I was asking it, and I have given her an answer, even if I didn't know that it was given.

"What took you so long?"
"I'm here now."

Love the ones you love. Count your crows and your comets and your lucky coins.

Live your fairy tale today.