Sue Vincent’s prompt this week is
There are days when all the planets seem to align and the world is a better place. In countries plagued by drought a warm sun is interspersed with refreshing showers to feed stressed crops and replenish waterholes; places suffering cold and bitter winds are blessed with balmy days of sun loosing hunched muscles and allowing layers of clothing to be discarded as the vitamin D supplies are restored; in sweaty jungles the humidity drops as gentle breezes provide relief from enervating toil; and in lands prone to flood the sunshine dries the soil and the homes and restores some hope to despoiled lives.
Thursday the 14th of May would go down in Earth’s history as the day that everywhere became pleasant, even if only for 24 hours. Wars paused and arguments were put on hold; schools took a break and governments simply did nothing thus relieving their peoples of both despotic demands and democratic deficits. For evermore the day the earth sighed and knocked off early would be recalled with a wistfulness that, for once, prove the truth of that otherwise nonsense saying: ‘it was better in my day’.
Wise people pondered the meaning, scientists sought rational explanations, religions poured over their good, and not so good books seeking revelation, all hoping to explain this unique phenomenon.
Meanwhile, in a kitchen somewhere in Asgard, Athena wiped her hands on a towel and went outside. Horace, her son sat on a stool, in one hand a plant spray and in the other a mirror.
‘Mum, when can I stop this?’
‘Horace, I warned you about playing with that planet without permission. If you are going to be their god, you need to understand that mortals need a boost from time to time.’
‘But dad says they are my playthings…’
‘Atlas is old school in many way. A modern forward looking god offers options. It’ll be a good lesson for you to make their day perfect for once, given what you’ve done to them recently. Now hold that mirror tight. You need to reflect the sun off your teeth with care or you’ll fry them.’
‘It’s so unfair.’
‘Indeed.’ She watched her son for another day and then took the mirror from him. ‘Alright. Off you go. Your uncle Loki has left a parcel. I just hope it’s not another of those ‘Brew Up A Plague’ kits he so likes. They do stain the carpet so.’