It was an ordinary Thursday morning in the coastal city of Windmere. The streets were bustling with commuters, children hurried to school, and fishermen prepared their boats for the day’s catch. Then, without warning, the sky began to change.
At first, it was subtle—a faint greenish tint on the horizon. People assumed it was some sort of atmospheric trick caused by the sunrise. But within minutes, the entire sky glowed in shades of emerald and jade, bathing the city in an otherworldly light. The sea reflected the strange hue, making it look like an endless field of green glass TARITOTO.
Phones came out instantly. Social media flooded with images and videos, each captioned with confusion or awe. Meteorologists scrambled to explain it. The initial theories suggested an unusual combination of weather conditions: high humidity, rare cloud formations, and sunlight scattering differently through microscopic particles in the air. But those theories quickly crumbled when reports poured in from across the world—cities thousands of miles apart were seeing the same green sky at the exact same moment.
In some places, birds flew erratically, crashing into windows or spiraling downward as if disoriented. In others, animals stood frozen, staring at the heavens. Power grids flickered. Compass needles spun without direction. Air traffic controllers grounded flights when pilots reported distorted navigation readings.
Then came the sound. It wasn’t loud, but it was everywhere—a deep, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate inside the chest rather than in the ears. People claimed they could feel it in their bones. Some described it as soothing; others found it unsettling.
The phenomenon lasted exactly forty minutes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the green faded, replaced by a perfectly clear blue sky. The hum stopped. Birds resumed flying. Navigation systems returned to normal. It was as if nothing had happened.
Governments around the globe released statements urging calm while “investigations continued.” The United Nations convened an emergency session, though no official explanation was given. Some scientists proposed a rare solar event, but space agencies reported no unusual solar flares or cosmic activity. Others whispered about something entering—or leaving—Earth’s atmosphere.
In the weeks that followed, strange reports emerged. People across different continents claimed they began experiencing vivid dreams of places they had never seen: sprawling alien landscapes, towers of glass and metal, oceans that glowed with their own light. Some began sketching the same unfamiliar symbols without ever meeting each other.
A quiet group of researchers began collecting testimonies, convinced that whatever happened on that Thursday wasn’t just a natural phenomenon. They believed it was a signal—either a warning, a greeting, or perhaps an invitation.
Windmere eventually returned to its usual rhythm, but locals still remember that morning vividly. Tourists visit hoping to hear stories from those who witnessed it firsthand. And every once in a while, when the light hits the water just right, someone swears they can see a faint green shimmer on the horizon.
Whatever happened that day remains unexplained. But many believe the sky will turn green again—when the world is ready.