Night Was Falling...

When the particles falling from meteor showers are smaller than grains of sand, they burn up in the atmosphere. However, those larger are capable of penetrating the blanket of air surrounding our Earth, hit the ground with a tremendous impact, and invariably become meteorites. When they fall continuously, the chunks of rock are a bane to those unfortunate enough to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Yet, they do create beautiful sights...

It was terrifying. There I was, wandering soberly across a trimmed field I had visited since childhood, with my conscience fixated upon solemn thought. I would intermittently step into a hidden gully, and tiredly shake off the clinging water. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. In the distance, I could spot a small inn, laced with flashing lights. The voices and laughs of content people drifted to my ears. I could hear the dim clinking of glasses, and the faint trail of music. I looked stonily ahead.
And then... one second all I could see was dark, prickly grass... and the next second- it was alight. A few moments later, an explosive sound, diminished, worked its way to my mind. The stalk of grass was momentarily ignited- an orange blaze- and later lost its color, and dropped into a bow. A minute later, several other grass blades met with the same fate. It took me about ten seconds to realize what I was in the middle of. Ten seconds later, my only instinct was to flee. With a gasp of terror, my dawdle broke into a run. I sprinted in no particular direction, dodging any indication of flames. Chunks of rock, the size of large pebbles, hurtled towards the ground. One grazed my elbow, the other narrowly missed my foot. But I was alive. I felt more alive than I had in weeks. I swiftly evaded the meteors, while I unwaveringly trusted my intuition. There were consecutive explosions, each possessing the power of dynamite. At long last, their frequency began to cease. Overcome with fatigue, I collapsed heavily into a massive puddle. I had landed on the outskirts of the field, and was wincing with pain. I got up carefully, cradling my elbow, and surveyed the damage. Parts of the field illuminated the night, and other parts, a mixture of gray and gold, were emitting smoke. An acrid scent hung in the air. The sky and atmosphere had reverted back to their normal state. I could hear screams of delight coming from the inn. Dazed, and overwhelmed with shock, I sat and stared at the burnt remnants of the meadow, a place I would run to even from the tender stages of my life.

It was beautiful. I had gone to the countryside to visit my young niece of seven. She lived in a desolate village- charming, bursting with wildlife, but lonely. The celestial bodies were her companions during the night, as I came to know. After a few hours in her company, she kindled in me an interest in constellations and nebulae. Later, brimming with enthusiasm, she led me to all her cherished places- a clear, gurgling spring, a tree entirely composed of bright, magenta flowers... Our day ended with an exhausting trek up an endless mountain, encumbered with thorns and snakes. Panting, we found respite in a little, merry inn, and ordered our respective beverages. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. My eyes wandered about the fields and valleys, and finally rested upon a shining, golden patch on the grass, that lit up all in its vicinity. Though it was quite a distance from my inquisitive eyes, it was unmistakably fire. But I shrugged off the observation, indifferent, and continued with my drink. A second later, I had spilled half of it over the tablecloth, and so had half the others around me. An explosive sound, reduced exponentially, had been produced several hundred yards to my right. Later, as though resembling immobile, golden critters, tiny tracts of land irradiated a fiery ambience. I looked up, bewildered. Ten seconds later, I realized what I was in the middle of. Ten seconds later, I could only gape soundlessly at the phenomenon of raining fire. Like ignited jewels continually careening towards the Earth. Spellbound, my eyes turned glassy. My feet were rooted in place, while my heart was pounding wildly. Fire was surging from the inky sky, and landing on the vegetation with the strength of a small detonation.
One fell precariously close to my location, and I cringed discernibly. The fire was deep purple at the center, and lightened and mixed with orange as it proceeded outwards. Minutes later, the sparks died down, revealing a crumbling, smoldering mass of rock. My niece uttered a scream of pleasure, which echoed across the hills. The people surrounding me were applauding, stunned.
Fire replaced water as pouring rain, water extinguished fire. It was an immaculate succession of the transfer of power of the main elements. A smile of awe etched across my face, I too, broke into applause.

It was puzzling. Two ambivalent descriptions of the same occurrence. One, with the tenor of fear, and the other with that of respect. Two people, from two different walks of life, at different but proximal places, at the same time, viewing an event from two varying directions. I could detect similarities from their illustrations. The plight of one was the pleasure of another. One experience was devastation, and the second was unconcealed admiration. Perspective was instrumental in shaping and recounting events of historical or any significance.
Jaded, I slumped back on the warm, dew-tipped grass and switched off the lamp. Night was falling, yet I had no desire to leave. So I lay down, and gazed at the stars.