Just Another Day
It was just another day. You wouldn't have known at 08:46GMT that there would be anything unusual about this Tuesday. Commuters were going through the motions. The tubes and buses were full of the high-fliers and the shop assistants, the doctors and the hospital porters, the students and the tourists. If anyone gave 08:47 any thought, it was just to think that it would find them a little closer to their destination, closer to repeating the habitual functions that they repeated every weekday. No one would have predicted this hour of this day in this city for anything out of the ordinary.
But 08:47 had a surprise up its sleeve. This 08:47 would be like no other. Why the skies over London, rather than anywhere else, filled with fiery clouds, no one knew. Why a flaming meteor hurtled down on its Earthbound trajectory and skimmed along the Thames like a Dambuster bomb, no one could say. Why the waters of this mighty river parted with the meteor's touch, no one questioned. Why every TV, cinema and computer screen in every land simultaneously broadcast all this, no one commented upon. While the monitors continued broadcasting as a man in a simple white robe walked along the dry riverbed toward Parliament, no one spoke a word. They all knew.
This was the hour and this was the day that no one could predict. This was the moment that God sent His son back.
submitted at 12:02pm
3 September 2009