Very Short Story: 5.11.73

A reflection

Shorter and more personal than what I normally write, this piece was my contribution to this challenge from Kayleigh Thorpe:

Fourty Five Seconds

I normally use US spelling and conventions, but I’m going with my native Australian ones this time.

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5.11.73

The sparkler catches, sputters, and bursts into life, chemical luminescence carving a bold slice into the summer night.

“Would you like to hold it?”

The boy nods shyly, fascinated and frightened by its intensity and its strangeness.

In the distance, small bonfires burn, and from somewhere further out, the staccato pops of barbershop crackers echo and fade. The air is lightly hazed with the scent of sulphur.

“Be careful, now.” The boy takes it from the man’s mustard-stained fingertips, pinching the stem gingerly.

He gazes, transfixed by the jagged white needles now in his control. Part of him wants to wave it around; to make the glowing trails through the smoke that he’s seen the bigger boys make. To wield its power.

But he doesn’t do that tonight. He stands as still as he can, holds it aloft with both hands like a sacred object. In his short-sleeved pajamas, his arms catch the sting of the fiery speckles that spit into the world for an instant and disappear.

From one of the neighbours’ yards, a skyrocket shoots into the sky. They look up to track its flight — the snaking, stealthy ascent, the flash and sprays of colour, the grey puffs caught by the gentle breeze. Then the bang, a moment later.

The boy looks back to his prize. It’s reaching the bottom now. This rough electric flame, this hissing frenzy of smoke and heat and light will soon be gone. Just a few more seconds.

Somewhere in the distance, a horse neighs.

It’s spluttering now. Father and son watch together in silence.

Finally, it fizzes and dies.

And the darkness rushes in.