One day, instead of blue, the sky started raining green, and everything changed.
At first, people thought it was a freaky weather eventor a chemical leak. But when the raindrops touched the ground, they didn’t evaporate or seep in. They clung, thick and shimmering, like liquid emeralds. Grass turned neon, buildings pulsed with an eerie glow, and anyone caught in the downpour found their skin tinged with an unnatural luminescence.
I watched from the awning of a corner store, gripping my jacket tightly. “Is this safe?” I asked an old man beside me.
“I don’t know,” he said, brushing a glowing droplet from his sleeve. “But I’ve never seen the sky rain green before.”
By nightfall, the real terror set in. The rain didn’t dry. It sank into people, changed them. At first, it was subtle—a strange brightness in their eyes, a calmness that didn’t belong. Then, the whispers started. People who had been fully soaked in the rain spoke in hushed, rhythmic voices, moving weirdly.
Jonas, my best friend, was one of them.
“You should come outside, Mira,” he said, standing barefoot in the glowing puddles, his voice cracking. “It feels… right.”
Something about him was wrong. Too still. Too sure. The others—dozens of them now—stood in the streets, eyes gleaming, waiting. Listening.
And then, I heard it.
A sound, low and pulsing, vibrating beneath my ribs. It wasn’t from the sky. It was coming from them.
A scream tore through the silence. A woman across the street collapsed, writhing, as if something inside her was tearing free. The people of the rain turned toward her in unison, their glowing eyes narrowing.
Jonas extended his hand. “You need to choose, Mira.”
I looked at the storm above, at the changing world around me, at the writhing woman whose screams had turned to something else—a deep, echoing laughter.
Then, as the green rain continued to fall, I made my choice.
And I ran.