I saw it only for a moment. No, not even that. I saw it in the space between heartbeats, in the flap of a hummingbird’s wings.
It was late; the night was dark. The only lights were distant headlights and distant stars. The night was moonless and the road was lonely. I was by myself in a dark, silent world.
A blinding light hit me. I don’t mean like looking at your phone screen after waking up at 3 AM. I mean burning through your eyelids even when you close them. I mean so bright it hurts.
But then I saw it: a world of shapes and colors, full of people, like us but not. They were tall and beautiful, with eyes that glowed the purest blue I’ve ever seen. The buildings were alive, like the offspring of the Taj Mahal and a redwood grove.
It was astounding.
The pain hit me right in the chest and my vision cleared. I’d crashed and the front of my car was a steaming mess.
Was it a hallucination? I don’t think so.
Were they angels? Aliens? Something else? I don’t know.
All I know is I’d give anything to see it again.
Word Count: 199
This is my entry for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner Week #13. Thanks to rogershipp for running the challenge. Photo is from publicdomainarchive.com.