It was a scorching afternoon in the bustling city. Cars honked, vendors yelled, and people hurried past — until something unusual caught everyone’s eye in the middle of the road.
There stood Grandma. Not just any grandma, but the kind who never listens to reason. She wore a bright pink swim ring around her waist and had a wild, determined glint in her eye. At her feet, she had already pried open the heavy metal cover of a street water collector — the kind only city workers should touch.
“Don’t do it! You’ll die in there!” strangers shouted. But Grandma didn’t even flinch. She adjusted her swim ring, took one last glance at the crowd, and stepped right up to the edge.
Then — SPLASH!
She plunged in with shocking force for someone her age. A massive wave of grimy water exploded into the air, drenching everyone nearby. The street shook, a few cracks spiderwebbed across the asphalt, and several fat sewer rats scrambled out, squealing and darting between people’s legs.
Before the crowd could even process what happened, strange, alarming sounds began to echo from the hole — a deep metallic clank, followed by a low, rumbling thud-thud-thud. It didn’t sound like anything a human should be near. The noise grew louder, almost like something enormous was moving underground.
The onlookers backed away in fear, clutching each other, as the ripples in the dark water slowly faded… and Grandma was nowhere to be seen.