The Visitor Godzilla Review

He wasn’t an invader. He was a visitor who had woken up in the wrong millennium, looking for a home that no longer existed.

Not this ocean—the one he remembered. The one before the continents drifted, before the sky turned this pale, thin blue. The one where his kind had swum between the stars, when Earth was young and molten and theirs. He had slept in the mantle for three hundred million years, dreaming of that sea. And now he had risen to find it gone, replaced by steel and glass and tiny screaming things that threw fireflies at his hide. the visitor godzilla

“Identify,” he whispered. Then, louder: “Identify!” He wasn’t an invader