Majestic Dawn - Chapter One

Majestic Dawn

Chapter One

Ascension
December - 1 b.c., The Middle East
In the fading sunset light he appeared to be dancing. Jigging from side to side, he twisted around in the crunchy snow, flapping his arms and reversing halfway through a step. The low light of the dusky winter evening caused his red and blue and cream banded robe to kaleidoscope as he spun around in circles, first one way, then the other. A desperate lunge solved the mystery of his movements as he fell to the ground with a snow muffled thud, grunting and clutching a sheep, as the wooly animal attempted to skip and kick its way out of his near frozen grasp.
‘Finally, I catch you Xheba!’ The breathless shepherd smiled as he herded the last of the ewes into the hillside pasture. He had given names to all of his flock; such was his fondness for his charges. As usual, Xheba was the last to be caught.
The biting wind pierced through the threadbare scarf that offered little protection to his weather-beaten features. Though his eyes were sharp, they betrayed the years he had spent exposed to natures ever-changing moods. The scraping snow furled as he dragged the pasture gate shut and secured the latch. Satisfied with his evening’s work, he turned to look across the Jordan valley, and took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with sweet, cold night air. His condensed breath hung in front of him as he gazed across the darkening sky, and a nagging thought, uninvited and equally unwelcome, crept into his mind. Something unfamiliar, and sinister, with a cause not located, began to gnaw at his conscience. There was an unnatural feeling as he stared into the moonless evening sky, which made him grateful for the distraction of movement in his view. At the bottom of the valley, three heavily laden camels and their mounts made their way towards the town. He watched the procession in silence, as the first stars of the night appeared, and his thoughts pondered how these brightening bodies went about their overnight sojourns only to reappear exactly where they were 24 hours previously. One particular star seemed to be shining brighter than all the others.
Weariness overwhelmed the shepherd as he gazed at the now sparkling night sky, and he sought a place to rest. His ageing eyes settled on a barren old olive tree at the back of the snow-covered pasture, and started to make his way through the powder dry snow. As the shepherd turned away from the valley, a perfect column of blue-white light slowly descended from the bright star, it’s beam heading directly towards the town at the bottom of the valley, and the final destination of the three camel riders. He didn’t see it. At the olive tree, he unrolled his sleepmat and laid it down next to the twisted trunk where the hard ground was fortunately untouched by the snowfall. The star continued to blaze the bright column, which connected with Bethlehem, illuminating the town like a giant jewel.
Hassan was tired. The journey to bring the sheep to graze in this lush pasture had started at sunrise, and ended after sunset, but his weariness had surprised him. In 55 years of shepherding, he could not recall feeling this tired.
‘You are getting old Hassan.’ He scolded himself.
Using the trunk of the tree to scratch his back, he unfolded his knapsack, pulled out a fig and took a bite.
The nagging, uninvited thought returned. A feeling that he was being watched flooded his mind. It was persistent, and several attempts to dismiss it proved fruitless. His awareness now heightened, he noticed the biting, and bone-chilling wind that had earlier pierced his thin robes had dropped completely. The occasional bleat from the sheep that usually punctuated his night’s rest was absent. In fact the sheep were huddled together on the far side of the field, unnaturally still in the open pasture. He cocked his head to one side and strained to listen. There was something about the noise. It dawned upon him slowly. There was no noise. No bleating from the statue-like sheep, no ribbed screeching from crickets, no rustling leaves from the few olive trees in the field. No noise whatsoever.
Jagged shadows of the nearby trees rose up and caught his view. ‘What is this? Shadows without a moon?’ he questioned aloud.
He struggled to his feet from the base of the olive tree, to investigate the cause. He was sluggish, as if climbing out of heavy mud.
Then he saw it. The star, the bright star, it was moving. Momentarily disoriented, he steadied himself against the tree. The star was definitely moving.
Slowly, it glided upwards, perfectly straight, and then it began to make sudden, rapid, zigzag movements across the night sky. The bright star darted around and changed direction so fast he could barely keep his eyes on it. Hassan watched, not daring to move, breathe or make a sound as the star snaked backwards and forwards, creating blue and white patterns of light that faded slowly on the purple canvas. The star came to a sudden halt high in the sky. It seemed to pause as if it had noticed something… Hassan.
The blood drained from his face as he realised his predicament. Panic ran through his body as the star fell from its position, pelting, silently but directly towards him. Terror rooted him to the spot as the star plummeted to earth, screams for mercy died in his throat, and as death approached, the landscape seemed to bend into unfamiliar shapes, and the hair on his arms and the back of his neck were raised and prickled. The star streaked toward him, looming larger in his view with every passing second. He could feel his pulse in his mouth and the blood coursing through his veins as flashes of his early life raced through his mind. Lifelong questions that had gone unanswered throughout his many years, now seemed to be answered one by one with breathtaking clarity. In this moment of crisis he found himself thinking of the absurdity of this newly acquired wisdom, ‘I am at life’s end, what use are answers now?’ He thought.
Then, with the star no more than a few seconds away from the destruction of the shepherd, it stopped as suddenly as it had started, and hung completely still, noiselessly and ominously in the air above him.
The adrenaline that had prepared the shepherd for his death was still pumping through his veins. His heart was beating hard in his chest, yet he opened his scrunched up eyes and forced himself to look at the strange object above him. It could be no more than twenty feet away, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. A perfect circle, the star was glowing bluish-white as if lit from the inside. And it was rotating. Hassan’s fear subsided as he realised he was still alive.
A curious smell like sulphur wafted in the air and assaulted his nose and a heat haze distorted the area below the star. Its slow rotation gave the impression that it was studying the shepherd, who could no longer resist the urge to touch the object. As he stretched out his hand, the orb immediately stopped spinning. Suddenly, it tilted forward and ejected a flash of blue-white light. The air crackled with electricity as the beam struck the shepherd and engulfed him. Almost immediately, the beam disappeared again and the night was plunged back into darkness. Pale wisps of charged air wound their way into the night sky.
Tree leaves began to rustle as the wind rose, crickets sang rhythmically between the occasional bleat of the sheep, and Hassan, the shepherd of Bethlehem, was gone.


"Majestic Dawn - Chapter Two"