A crack. A bang. Then, silence.
A typical description of a lightning strike. But, what if I told you it wasn’t? It is a cloudless night. The breeze is soft and caressing. Up above, countless stars intermittently watch you wander through the forest, from glade to glade, stopping each time to gaze back up.
It was always like this. Each glade, the same size, the same shape. The trees, their faces familiar. The exposed stones, aged with moss, softly illuminated a pale blue. The tallgrass, barely swaying. Nothing changed since your last arrival. Neither the forest, nor the night. The moonlight didn’t grow or wane. The stars… they were all in their place. All was eternal. Walking straight forward would always return you to this same glade. There was no trace of a path left behind you, the grass swallowing your steps. You are trapped in this dream world, left to wander indefinitely.
But, with just four words, you are on notice. The pattern of silence is broken. The story has begun.
Your mind awakens from its slumber; from countless nights of thoughtless ambling. High alert, you listen for the sound again. But it doesn’t repeat. There is only the sound of the breeze, yet, it sounds different this time. Eerily rhythmic, the wind picks up, then dies down, over and over. There is a faint hint of a melody this time, as if it is carrying a distant voice.
A new sensation arises in your chest. Muscles tensing, breath hastening. The hairs on the back of your neck rises as a strange chill stings the back of your head, surging down your spine to your toes and fingertips. Despite all this, you don’t run. You know you aren’t in danger. You’re the main character of this story, after all. Yet, each time the four words strike, you are aroused to listen. Listen to what the story has to tell.
Despite the countless time you spent wandering this forest, this wasn’t the first time you heard this. It would begin, without notice, without warning or fanfare. Each time, the same story is told, the same melody follows, yet, each time, it is peculiarly different, as if it were a new voice singing the story this time. Each performance was not the same. Each experience was distinct.
However different, you met each play with affirmation. The glade darkens, the stars disappear, and the forest pulls away. A new sense of direction in a directionless world takes over. It gives you solace. It gives you strength. Everything else that came before is washed away. Cleansing your palate. You quiver with emotion. With excitement.
In anticipation for something great.