A Most Spectacular Show
by Evelyn C., age 12
The sojourners gazed bemusedly around them. It was simply darkness—a pulsing, pounding darkness—not at all like the flat, silent darkness of our world. They had arrived in a blank world, an empty world. The travelers realized they were shivering; the chilly air had stirred into a breeze. They clearly did not belong here. Then they heard it: a voice, a faint voice, but a beautiful one. Suddenly it was joined by a thousand voices, their choruses rising and filling the cold air, ringing across the barren land and into the endless sky. Following this melody, infinite stars appeared in the sky in one bright, glorious flash. The awed oddities gazed up at their dome of minuscule, diamond-like lights, which were so beautiful they cannot be described. The melody rose again, and this time a light was growing, climbing into the picture, rising over the hills. A breeze emanated from it, a cool chill of foreboding tingling in their spines. The song rose louder still, and the light changed colors. It began as a pure, creamy white, the innocent white of a dove’s feather, and it rippled into pink, the pink of the delicate rose which sits perched on its thorny throne, bejeweled in dew each morning as the sun rises. Lastly it revealed a shade of magnificent gold, the crown jewel of the production, as golden as the fields of flaxen wheat in autumn. And when the glorious, triumphant thundering of the unified voices reached its peak, the sun burst forth, rising over the forest green hills, stretching its rays into the heavens to embrace the stars, blazing proudly over its first morning in this new and beautiful world. The travelers gaped in awe at this world, fresh and golden, recognizing that they had just witnessed the most spectacular show human eyes had ever seen.
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