In homes throughout the coastal city of Miyako, people grabbed walls, doorframes, tables, anything that might keep them upright.
Some screamed.
Others froze.
Children cried as parents pulled them close.
Shelves collapsed.
Objects fell from walls.
Glass shattered across floors.
Outside, utility poles swayed violently, power lines twisted, and parked vehicles bounced against the pavement.
The shaking seemed to have no end.
For what felt like minutes, the entire world had become motion.
Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the strongest shaking weakened.
Silence followed.
Not peaceful silence.
A frightening silence.
The kind of silence that comes when people are waiting to find out what has happened.
Residents slowly stepped outside.
Some stood in the streets looking at damaged buildings.
Others were calling relatives.
Phones rang.
Messages were sent.
But communication networks were already beginning to fail.
And somewhere beyond the coastline, beneath the dark surface of the Pacific Ocean, another danger was already forming.
