The Red Sun

"On a rainy day, I curl up in my reading corner with a cup of hot coffee. I keep myself warm with the memory of the red sun.
It was another dry summer at my grandmother's house. In between all the chaos, I would often slip out of her house and quietly make my way to a banyan tree near the house. The banyan tree seemed to me to be the originator of dreams. I would while away the hours reading my books and dreaming of adventures. It was on one such afternoon, that the red sun rose.
She came to me with a gust of cool wind. The banyan tree showered a pile of leaves lightly on us, a welcome akin to that of a princess. She glided towards me and smiled. The smell of cinnamon and spice filled the air. She ruffled my hair and walked by. As she disappeared into the horizon, she glanced back at the little boy sitting under the banyan tree with a book in his hand. That was the day he saw the red sun rise."