Date: Evening, March 31, 2025
Location: Seattle, Washington
The rain streaked Sarah Thompson’s apartment window like tears on a grieving face. She sat hunched over her laptop, the blue glow illuminating her tired eyes. It was 8:33 PM PDT, and the world outside buzzed with the usual pre-April Fools’ Day nonsense—prank videos clogging her social media feeds, memes about alien invasions and fake government leaks. She scrolled X absently, sipping lukewarm coffee, her deadline for the Seattle Pulse looming. Another fluff piece on local tech startups. Boring, but it paid the rent.
A notification pinged. Then another. She frowned, refreshing the app. A grainy video from a user named @EmeraldWatcher showed a group in hoodies chanting in a park near Lake Union. Their voices were low, guttural, almost synchronized, holding signs with a weird, snaking symbol—like a worm eating its own tail. The caption read: “They’re at it again. Anyone know what this is? #AprilFoolsPrep”
Sarah smirked. “Nice costumes,” she muttered, assuming it was some elaborate prank. She’d seen worse—last year, someone faked a Bigfoot sighting downtown. She saved the video anyway, tagging it for a potential “Top 10 April Fools’ Stunts” listicle. Her editor loved those.
Her phone buzzed—her brother, Jake. She hesitated. They hadn’t spoken since Christmas, when he’d stormed out after a fight about his new “friends.” He’d been cagey lately, dropping vague hints about a “community” he’d joined. She answered, forcing a smile into her voice.
“Hey, Jake. You prank-calling me early?”
Silence. Then his voice, low and strained. “Sarah… you need to get out of the city. Tonight.”
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“What? Why?” She sat up, coffee sloshing onto her desk.
“They’re coming. The Star Children. It’s not a joke.” He sounded distant, like he was reciting something. “I tried to keep you out of it, but… it’s too late.”
“Jake, what the hell are you talking about? Are you okay?” Her pulse quickened. He’d always been dramatic, but this felt different—off.
A muffled shout came through the line, then a crash. “Just go! Please—” The call cut off.
Sarah stared at her phone, heart thudding. She redialed, but it went straight to voicemail. “Jake, you’re freaking me out. Call me back.” She tossed the phone down, rubbing her temples. Probably just him messing with her. April Fools’ eve, right?
She returned to X. More posts were popping up—power flickering in Tacoma, a protest blocking I-5 with that same worm symbol painted on banners. A photo from Portland showed a crowd in masks, some with… extra arms? CGI, she thought. Had to be. But the comments were a mix of laughter and unease. “Best prank yet!” one said. “This ain’t funny anymore,” another replied.
Her laptop chimed—a news alert from KING 5: “Unusual Activity Reported Across Puget Sound; Authorities Investigating.” The article was vague—riots, vandalism, nothing concrete. She cross-checked X again. A live stream from @SoundWatch showed a street in Capitol Hill, dark except for flashing police lights. Figures darted through the shadows, too fast, too wrong. One turned, and its eyes glinted—four of them, glowing like embers.
Sarah froze. Her breath caught. “What the…”
The stream cut to static. She refreshed, but it was gone. Her phone buzzed again—not Jake, but a text from her editor, Mara: “Weird shit happening. Can you chase it? Deadline’s flexible.”
She typed back, fingers trembling: “On it.”
Outside, the rain intensified, drumming a frantic rhythm. Sarah grabbed her jacket, recorder, and keys. Jake’s words echoed—“Get out of the city.” She shook her head. He was paranoid, or pranking her. Had to be.
As she stepped into the hall, the building’s lights flickered. A low hum vibrated through the walls, almost like a chant. She glanced at her phone—11:59 PM. One minute to midnight. One minute to April Fools’ Day.
She didn’t know it yet, but the world was about to change. The Genestealer cult had been waiting, and their time was now.
