You may have the misfortune to glimpse her in flashes of lightning. She is three miles tall, naked except for old, grey sheets of rain. She is propelled by the wind of dead civilizations. She travels the interstates, hunting for cities and delousing them of their human populations. She has rat blood, a cunt full of snakes and spiders. Her hair is tangled with lightning and aborted babies. One eye is a dead moon, the other a swirling black hole. Her laughter sounds like the suffering of everyone you ever loved. Her breath smells like flooded basements. She is coming fast, burning hospitals and supermarkets. She is coming for you.
Stay in your homes. You are easier to find.