The fireworks

The sound of fireworks echoed in the night, faint at first but growing louder with increasing pace, like they were creeping closer to my small, dimly lit room, like vines creeping up walls. I sat at my desk, hunched over a history textbook, but the words on the page barely registered. I could hear the celebrations outside: the laughter, the cheers, the popping bursts of color in the sky. And for a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the sounds take over me.
New Year’s Eve. I should’ve been out there, like everyone else. But no, I was stuck inside, pretending this history exam was the most important thing in the world. I traced the edge of my pencil across the margins of the page, the familiar weight of it grounding me. The clock ticked in the background, each second growing louder, matching the fireworks.
I glanced at my phone. Midnight was approaching. A new year, a new beginning for everyone out there. I sighed, letting my gaze drift to the window, where flashes of light danced across the dark sky. I could picture them, the people below, gathered in the streets, bundled up against the cold, their faces turned upwards, waiting for the fireworks to explode above.
For a brief moment, I thought about joining them. It would’ve been easy. I could slip out, blend into the crowd, and let the festive atmosphere swallow me up. So I reluctantly did.
I walked out, the pockets of my jeans heavy, weighing me down. My heartbeat quickened as I moved toward the crowd. I peered through the corner, the cold gust of the night air crisp and biting at my skin. At first, everything seemed normal. The sky was alight with bursts of color, and the people below were still gathered, watching in awe. But then, from a distance, I saw it. Chaos.
Figures were moving frantically, running, colliding with each other. The popping of fireworks continued, but it was no longer just fireworks. There were flashes coming from the ground, too. Quick, erratic bursts of light, far too low to be part of the display. My breath caught in my throat with foreboding dread.
Gunshots.
The screaming intensified, piercing through the night, louder now, closer. Panic surged through the crowd as people scattered like ants, some falling to the ground, others pushing and shoving to escape. My pulse raced as I watched the scene unfold in disbelief.
I felt a strange sense of detachment as I watched the mayhem unfold. The fireworks overhead continued, oblivious to the terror that had erupted on the ground. I didn’t move, didn’t blink; I just stood there, frozen, watching everything unravel in real time.
I turned away, my back pressed against the electric pole behind me.
I slowly turned from my back support as a body fell flat onto the ground in front of me. His eyes were open and unseeing, as the crimson blood pooled around his head, fanning out like spilled ink over a piece of paper. The sight was unnerving, really. But to someone else. Not to me.
I stared at the unseeing eyes and smiled to myself as I slipped the gun back into my pocket.