The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke.
Ray BradburyAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: american
- Born: August 22, 1920
- Died: June 5, 2012