The night was cold, dark and silent just like it was supposed to be.
The only sound being the whistling of passive wind. It was almost as if it was too tired to travel, too broke to connect.
It brought with it a smell of ash that was foreign to the land of daffodils.
The moon was in a league of its own. Too nonchalant to care about the pandemonium that was the Earth.
Stars were hardly visible, crushed by the wrath of urbanisation. Lone rangers who had survived long enough, twinkled, hoping to avenge the death of their loved ones.
On a regular night, the wind would compete with a Bugatti Veyron and bring with it the faint scent of daffodils that grew at the edge of the city.
Hey, peeps.
How are you.
What do you think about this story?
I love to hear from you. So don't shy away.
Dedicated to rotations and revolved for designing this beautiful cover.
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Tellurian
Short StoryTellurian: 1.adj., Of or pertaining to the earth. 2. Describing minerals containing tellurium. Two friends who are oblivious to the society's norms and conditions, each with their own eccentricity, befriend an extra - terrestrial whose ship crashes...
