Roger kept watch over the skies. Was amazing how such a peaceful nighttime sky could so quickly turn into a screaming nightmare.
The siren was always frightening. The darkness bone chilling. Sometimes she wouldn't get out of the cinema. A pitch black theatre of dreams, an escapists paradise, five seconds away from smithereens.
Roger couldn't understand it. Why did his wife choose the cinema over safety? He'd seen what rained from the skies every night. It wasn't human. It wasn't of this earth. He wanted Helen locked in a safe dungeon far underground for the next few years.
Every morning, Helen would look out of the bedroom window, just to make sure her favourite building was still standing. No-one on the wireless or in the skies was making any sense, but the cinema was golden.
Roger received the information. London was on lock down. Helen was at the movies, where everything was singing and dancing. The town went silent and dark. Black objects appeared like ghosts in the distant sky.
Roger sensed it. He left his post and sprinted. There was going to be a hit, and it wasn't going to be pleasant.
Helen stared at the screen, fully aware of how life is magical yet impossible.
Then it went stone dark.
From inside she heard the rumble rumble crumble of London, and everything got closer. There was going to be a hit, she knew it.