It Was a Moment When Everything Went Still
by Di Glenday

IT WAS A MOMENT WHEN EVERYTHING WENT STILL -Birds stopped chirping, dogs stopped barking and the cats left their cosy corners in the garden to move their lazy bodies inside.

The leaves on the trees no longer whispered and the plants stood like statues in the garden.

Clouds kept rolling over en-mass, the day grew darker and darker by the moment.

Across the windowpane, into the lounge, came a bright white light for an instant, followed by a huge crack of thunder booming from above, plunging the house into total darkness.

The clock in the lobby was no longer ticking, we realised something was wrong. Could it have been the lightening bolt? Or was it the deafening crack of thunder?

Rain gushing down from the cumbersome clouds above, to the hot steaming ground.

Cracking, bashing, squeaking, creaking, banging, feeling the roof is being lifted off its strong, bold trusses. Trees bending at right angles in the powerful, gusting wind.
The sound of water all round us, as if a moat had formed, encircling the house as the torrents of rain were unable to flow away fast enough.

While dry inside, with the soothing light of candles glowing throughout the house, giving us a sense of peace and security, the whole family sat under a soft, cuddly duvet on the couch listening to the awesome sounds created by nature. Thank goodness for a little comforting heat, oozing from the centrepiece of the lounge, welcoming sounds of popping and crackling from the fireplace.

By now it was getting really dark as the night closed in. We all shared the one hot bath not being aware of when we will have power again. After which we huddles round the fire, gobbling down a delicious sandwich, lovingly made with mums fare hands, while playing board games in the flickering candlelight. Alas, sadly missing, was a mug of thick, dark brown, steaming hot chocolate!

What a blessed moment, to all be sharing such special quality time without the civilised gadgets around us.
Suddenly, a disturbing, knock at the door. Abruptly, bolt up right, eyes wide open and scared, staring at each other. Wind now calming down, just the gentle pattering of raindrops on the windowpanes. The storm was passing by. Who could this be?

My dad raised his body from the warm carpet, to approach the door with care. A little nervous, he asked: "Who's there?"

A soft voice replied, saying he had noticed something mysterious in our garden while walking his dog, wondering if we knew about it, he curiously tapped on our door to enquire.

On opening the door, to a very wet, cold, grey haired gentleman, who walks his dog past our house every evening, had noticed this mystical glow on our front lawn. Eager to see what it was, had waded cautiously through the ankle deep puddles on the pathway to satisfy his curiosity. Peering at the odd, ominous object, noticing it felt warm, he lifted it slowly and carefully held it in his wrinkled hands to knock us up.

We all by now were so intrigued in this incredibly unusual, 8 sided soccer ball sized metallic item, that we invited him in to continue the 'arb' conversation on how this may have arrived in our property.

After towelling off his dog, who had by now found the warmth of the fire and plonked himself down on the rug. Sadly, unable to offer a hot cuppa of sorts, the visit was short and sweet.

Is this a part of a UFO? Was this the reason for the bright white light and disturbance in the weather, sudden storm that by now had passed us by completely and disappeared as quickly as it came.

Mr Wilson left with his dog traipsing behind him with tail between its legs back into the cold dark night. His old hands, clutched tightly around the obscure object, they made their way home safely.

Off to bed we all loped, to become enveloped in our enticing duck down duvets, with our heads resting upon our soft pillows for a good night's rest after the excitement of the evening.

Listening to the eerie sounds of the owls in the forest hooting to their mates, we fell fast asleep.
A sudden awakening, its morning, mum who had a phone call, came to tell me Mr Wilson had died during the night. Why?

Up we rose, tearfully plodding down our long passage toward the kitchen to the familiar aroma of old fashioned porridge bubbling, hissing and steaming in Granny's double boiler, to start a new day with a bowl of delicious winter breakfast before heading off to school.

© Di Glenday