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In the cold, foggy morning of Bangkok, I walked alone through empty streets. The air was heavy, and everything felt distant, like a dream slipping away. In the silence, a temple stood tall, its golden stupa reflected in a puddle on the wet road. It felt strange, both beautiful and eerie, like a place pulled from another time.
There were no people, no sounds. The city that was once alive now felt abandoned, wrapped in mist. The temple seemed to offer peace, but not the kind you’d expect. It wasn’t comforting, it was the kind of stillness that made you feel small, as if the world had forgotten you.
I stood on the empty road, realizing I was alone, not just here, but maybe in every sense. The fog swallowed everything, hiding the shapes of temples and homes. The streets stretched endlessly, with no sign of life, as though the city had fallen asleep forever.
I knelt by the puddle, tracing the reflection with my fingers, hoping to feel something real. The water rippled under my touch, twisting the temple’s reflection into something unfamiliar, like a glimpse of a world that never came to be. I shivered, as if the fog carried the weight of lost memories and silent prayers.
Why was I here? I couldn’t remember. Maybe I came looking for peace, but even peace felt distant now, like chasing shadows. I wandered through the streets, not knowing where to go.
The temple stood still, not waiting for anyone. It just was a quiet witness to what had been and what would never be again.
In that moment, I let the silence take me. I stood there, fading into the mist, like a forgotten thought drifting away with the morning fog.
Keyword- fantasy tale, storytelling, fantasy fiction, creative writing, fiction, photography
Gourav Dey
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