The sun was a warm, friendly blanket over the public gardens of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Nagar. It was a perfect afternoon, the kind filled with the laughter of children. In the middle of it all, a small, inseparable group of five-year-olds were on a grand adventure.

"The slide is the mountain, and the sand is the crocodile river!" a little girl with bright, fearless eyes announced. This was Rosy Smith, already the brave leader in their games.

"That's not logical, Rosy," another girl replied, adjusting her glasses with serious concentration. "Crocodiles don't live in sand." This was Simran Singh, who always needed the rules to make sense.

"They do if they're magic crocodiles!" a third girl chirped, striking a dramatic pose. This was Mahira Khan, who could turn any game into a grand play.

The fourth girl, Gunjan Jain, said nothing. She was patiently trying to build a small bridge out of twigs across the "crocodile river," her focus absolute.

Watching them all with a quiet smile was Krishna Deshmukh. He was the calm center of their chaotic little world. For these four girls, Krishna was not just a friend; he was their anchor.

"Krishna, come on! You have to climb the mountain!" Rosy shouted, already halfway up the slide's ladder.

Krishna ran to follow, but his small feet tangled, and he fell, scraping his knee on the hard ground. The shock of it made his eyes water. He bit his lip, trying hard not to cry. He was thinking of his father, the archaeologist who had gone on a long trip a few year ago and hadn't come back. His mother, Gauri, had been crying a lot. Before he left, his father had told him, "Be strong." So, he tried to be strong.

But he didn't have to be strong alone. In an instant, the four girls were by his side. Rosy stood in front of him like a little soldier, ready to fight the ground. Gunjan ran to a nearby tap, wet her handkerchief, and came back to gently clean the scrape. Mahira started telling a funny story to distract him, and Simran explained that the bleeding was a good sign that his body was already healing itself.

Krishna looked at the four concerned faces around him and forgot all about the pain. Even at five years old, he knew he was the luckiest boy in the world.

Fourteen Years Later

The living room of the Deshmukh house was a mess of wires, circuit boards, and focused teenagers. The air smelled of hot solder and the sweet chai Krishna’s mother had brought for them.

"Hold the casing steady, Rosy," Simran instructed, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she made a tiny adjustment on a sensor with a pair of tweezers.

"I am holding it steady!" Rosy Smith replied, her strong hands surprisingly gentle with the delicate plastic housing. "Maybe if you didn't use components the size of a grain of rice, this would be easier!"

Gunjan Jain, her focus as intense as it was fourteen years ago, expertly touched a soldering iron to a contact point, a perfect, tiny silver dot appearing on the circuit board. Mahira Khan, meanwhile, was sketching a clean, easy-to-understand design for the user manual.

At nineteen years old, the five friends were now in their second year of B.Tech Electronics at the same college. Their childhood games had been replaced by complex projects, but their bond was stronger than ever. Krishna’s house was their unofficial headquarters.

Krishna Deshmukh smiled from the head of the table, where he was reviewing the project's code. "Almost there, everyone. The moisture sensor is calibrated. The pump activation relay is working."

Their project was simple but useful: a low-cost, solar-powered automated irrigation sensor. It was designed to help local farmers save water by testing the soil's moisture and only activating the water pump when necessary.

"And… done," Gunjan said softly, pulling the soldering iron away.

"Okay, let's test it," Krishna announced.

They all gathered around as Simran carefully connected the battery. A small green light on the device blinked to life. A moment later, a tiny water pump connected to it whirred, spitting a small stream of water into a nearby plant pot.

A cheer went up in the room. "It works!" Mahira shouted, clapping her hands.

"Of course, it works," Simran said with a proud, tired smile. "My calculations are never wrong."

Gauri, Krishna's mother, came in from the kitchen, smiling at their success. She was a teacher at a local school, and she loved seeing her son and his friends so passionate about their work. "Congratulations, children. You've all worked so hard."

"Thanks, Mom," Krishna said, giving her a hug. "We couldn't have done it without your chai."

"Finally!" Rosy stretched her arms. "I need to get out of this room. It's a beautiful Sunday."

"Let's go to the park," Gunjan suggested.

"Great idea!" Mahira agreed. "Krishna, you coming?"

Krishna shook his head. "I can't. I promised Mom I'd help her grade her students' exam papers. You four go ahead. I'll see you tomorrow."

He watched from the doorway as the four young women left, their laughter fading down the street.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Mahira, Gunjan, Rosy, and Simran walked through their favorite park, the same one they had played in as children. The stress of their college project melted away as they talked and laughed.

"I still can't believe Krishna isn't coming on the trip to Mumbai with us," Rosy said, kicking a small stone. "It won't be as fun without him."

"He said he has to work," Simran reminded her. "He's always helping his mom."

They were walking across a large, open lawn when the world changed.

It started with a sound—a high-pitched shriek that felt like it was tearing the sky in half. Every bird in the park fell silent. The air grew cold. They all looked up.

A streak of fire was screaming towards them. It was moving too fast to be a plane, too low to be a satellite.

Before they could even think to run, the object hit the ground just a few yards away. The impact was a dull, heavy thump that sent a shockwave through the earth. The force of it knocked the four girls off their feet, and they all fell to the ground, stunned and disoriented. Their ears were ringing.

The object, a dark, jagged meteoroid with a strange metallic sheen, was half-buried in the ground, hissing and smoking. As they struggled to sit up, a crack appeared on its surface. The crack spread, and the rock broke open.

It wasn't dust or fire that came out. From inside the dark rock, a thick, glowing green liquid poured out. It moved like a living thing, slithering across the grass with a terrifying speed and purpose. It headed straight for them.

They tried to scramble away, but they were too slow, too dazed. The green liquid touched them, and an icy cold shot through their bodies. The liquid flowed over them, and in a split second, it was gone, absorbed into their skin without leaving a single drop or even a wet spot on their clothes.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, their hearts pounding with terror. Then, the strength left their bodies. One by one, their eyes rolled back, and they fell to the ground, unconscious.

The park was in chaos. People were shouting and running away from the strange, smoking rock. But one man, an elderly gentleman who had been sitting on a nearby bench, had seen the whole thing. He saw the rock fall, and he saw the four young women collapse. His hands shaking, he pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number.

"Hello?" he stammered, his voice trembling. "Police? Ambulance? Something… something just fell from the sky. And four girls… they're not moving!"

The chapter ends as the distant sound of approaching sirens begins to cut through the panicked shouts of the crowd, a sound that marked the end of four normal lives, and the beginning of something impossible.

[To be continued…]

Support me: vanshbosssrahate@oksbi (UPI ID)

Author: Vansh Rahate

Editor: Vansh Rahate

Story by: Vansh Rahate

Under: Alaukika Studios