Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ could not compare to the horizon on that day. The sky was a gentle black, like the mane of a wild black mare that rides the night. Dark clouds gathered round the early night. The glorious Beasts above grumbled with anticipation, wanting to rid themselves of their watery encumbrance, and we shared this anticipation. In a few moments time, the millennium would change into a fresh one, like the phoenix that rises from the ashes, moments after demise.
Often, the mountains in the distance materialized, only to be hidden by the clouds again. A bright, flamboyant, flame-white moon stared at us from its radiant zoo. Its light illuminated the cold, wet shards of grass, shining them up like the lights of old, distant stars twinkling in the unknown distance.
A cold aura had started to envelop the humid, sultry night. Soft winds whistled silently across the meadow I was in, it swayed the short towers of wheat in the direction of its thundering influence. I was with many other strange and unknown people in that meadow, but we all had the same, great expectations. And our hearts were in the same state, all beating with excitement, all screaming with the want anticipation, all on the brink of bursting with every emotion we had ever felt in our entire lives; and these emotions were expressed in happy ways.
We had no way of going astray from our paths there, as nothing there would pull us from it. Any time now….
Rain fell. It fell on the dry dirt, the grass, the plants. It fused with them. It emitted such a beautiful, powerful aroma that my brain just shut down for a moment and forgot all the pains and miseries I had to go back to. I breathed in the smell as much as I could, as if it would never to rain again.
The wind and rain, brothers-in-arms, hit my face and softly slid off, leaving behind only a perky feeling in me, one that raised the hair on my arms like little soldiers ready to fight a little battle.
The tall pines were scattered round the meadow waltzed with themselves, whenever the wind picked up strength momentarily. Even they knew that worries at that moment were non-existent, so they enjoyed, peacefully dancing to the songs of the howling wind and the drums of the rain.
As the time grew narrower, even the tiny angels falling from the sky seemed to fall faster and more vigorously. They absorbed themselves into my clothes, making me shiver. This was the moment the Earth and everything in and on it had been waiting for. And despite this vast number of them, I had felt like I had been the only one there.
Everyone around me seemed to have vaporized into the dark night, leaving only me to witness the ascension. And the demonic, blazing, furious angel rocketed up into the sky, it fought against gravity, it defied the falling rain, it was a wayward rebel. And the rocket burst. It burst out all of its suppressed anger and rage into a beautiful, luminous ball of fire and sparks. It threw itself everywhere into the night sky in complete sang-froid, and no sound came from the lights until a few moments after, a soft pop.
The rebel’s soldiers flew up in unison after it had burst, following their leader, even in death. Silent whistles came from them this time, not like the wind’s, but more concentrated, high-pitched ones. They brought about colour with their ends into the dark, melancholy sky.
The sky seemed to dance in the colour of the rainbows. It’s stars were vivified in the macabre of colours. These heroics all vanished in the sky, only to be replaced by more and more of the fireworks, and colours and light. This brightness in the sky lingered faintly, but surely, and it commemorated the dawn of a new age and era. And everyone at that moment, even if they felt as if they were as small as ants in a jungle, or even as small as humans in the world, they had felt a wave of importance wash over them as the day, year, century and millennium turned to face its new self. And at that moment, I felt true happiness.