Sunlight beamed on the world below. The busy streets of London buzzed, people scuttling undisturbed like ants during a storm, scurrying to take care of their own business. Vibrant flowers lined windows all along the dazzling streets, filling the air with their scent and mingling with the pungent perfume on women’s wrists and the enticing aroma of fresh, bright fruit in the market stalls; yes, this was bliss.
Down an alleyway, resounding calls of churchgoing boys echoed into the sun. Each sound wave smashed the windows of the church, stained glass painted fresh with the voices that would remain for centuries to come. Heavenly, angelic, the choir flew on its wings happiness into the sky – which crashed and fell peacefully on the streets below as if it were confetti from a cannon. Still their song reverberated and shook the walls of the cathedral, overflowing an air of sound, uplifting anyone who listened. It filled them with warmth, and to them, this was bliss.
And just outside of these very walls were dozens of people listening intently, absolutely speechless. Simply relaxing to the beautiful sound that echoed through their bones as they lay blanketed in the soft earth. They remained until sunset – but remained still – to hear the very last of the angelic chorus as it faded into the night. They were happy watching the stars appear behind the stormy clouds – watching the sun rise and fall – watching the world pass them by – until they were but a story-less amnesiac on a slab of stone, forgotten by their own time, but still to them, this was bliss.
Night arrived and drowned the sun. The church suddenly fell silent as the choir retreated to its sleeping quarters, and further away on the high street, the markets hid themselves away. Rain fell from the sky, impassively smacking onto the empty concrete.
This was the end.
Roads fell silent with disquietude, death, lifelessness. London was obsolete, its sleepy alleys no longer teeming with the life that had enriched and poisoned them. The rain continued to fall, and it struck suddenly into the thoughtless minds lying six-feet-under in the graveyards; and while they had lost the privilege of freedom, to anyone present, this was bliss.