Charlie Cochrane - Mysteries with a dash of slash, romances with just a pinch of spice

Maybe it's one of those shepherds from yesterday's story. This is another one, like the innkeeper's tale, which was written for the advent posts I used to do in what feels like a galaxy far away (Live Journal). Heavily influenced by sport, funnily enough - that shared sense of wonder when you've witnessed a great event such as Super Saturday. I was there, I know it happened.

It was the noise we heard first, like a great wind or a flock of huge birds passing overhead. Then there was music; I think it was music, anyway, because I'd never come across the like. Harps and bells and drums and then a great booming voice talking about peace and goodwill and a baby. A baby born in a stable of all places. Not where you'd expect a king.

I had to open my eyes; not that I wanted to because I was scared witless, but the light which came with the message about the baby burned through my eyelids. The sky was full of things. Heavenly messengers, I guess, all light and wings and flashes like lightning and stars mixed together. Then they were gone as fast as they came, leaving just our ears ringing and an image on the eyes I couldn't get rid of even if I shut them tight. Couldn't get rid of the message, either.

We had to go and see. Glad we did. We were there and nobody will ever take that away from us.