At dawn, the New York subway tunnels were packed with faces starved of sleep;
Kansas farmers were shouldering pitchforks as they headed for their barns;
In Silicon Valley parks, young men and women in athletic clothes were out jogging;
In cafés in Southern towns, beautiful waitresses wore sweet smiles as they served coffee to familiar old sheriffs.
Countless others were eating toast and cereal while switching on their Televisions for the news, planning out their day.
Then, stirring orchestral music suddenly swelled, and the morning news began.
The female anchor wore a grave yet somewhat bewildered expression, her normally fluent delivery repeatedly catching:
"Good morning, viewers. Our first story this morning is breaking news."
"Early this morning, a major violent incident occurred at the Stonefield family Manor on Long Island, New York. It has been confirmed that at least two... more than two hundred people have died, including many prominent figures from the political and business worlds."
"This is the most serious private manor attack in the United States in nearly fifty years..."
Countless people looked up in shock, while others loudly asked, "What the hell is she talking about? Is it April Fools' Day?"
Every viewer who heard the opening immediately set down their food, forgetting about work or school, and called their family and friends to the television.
The footage swiftly switched to aerial shots from a helicopter.
The Stonefield Manor, once a place whose scenery ordinary people could only imagine, now looked like an anthill ravaged by a monstrous beast.
The manor gates stood wide open. The red and blue lights of police cars, ambulances, and news vans flashed together, staining the pre-dawn sky with an unsettling color.
Uniformed police officers had strung up long yellow cordons. Beyond them stood a dense crowd—reporters, onlookers, family members who