Fireworks
The little delights.
I’m surrounded by the pitter-patter of children’s feet inter-cut by the screeches and barking of cats and dogs; screams of delight litter the air as the young prance around a clearing in the slowly filling field. Tiny hands holding Catherine wheels at a distance, energetic young boys battling for the title of ultimate fighter — the night has been set off. Slow grilling of sausages is underway in the background, flaccid skin browning into ready-to-go portions of God knows what they’re filled with. An acrid smell hangs in the air, it’s chief concern being the invasion of clothing and irritation of noses.
These are the sounds and spectacles of the senses, running amok under the cover of this particular night. I slurp the last dredges of my coke can and toss it precariously onto a rubbish pile. With a burp and a small scratch of my crotch, I delve back into my prior contemplation. It’s fun, trying to pick out these tiny snippets of life, instances of its roaring vitality, all while my eyes strain against the darkness of the night.
“Oiittt! Alright everybody shut the fuck up and get into place, the show’s about to start you bleeding monkeys”, roars a thick bearded and rather portly man, his arms full of what seems to be a bundle of fireworks.
A hush sweeps across the obscured faces of the throngs of onlookers, excitement now stirring amongst them. The sizzling of cooked meat soon begins to subside, a different hunger now beginning to take hold of the crowd. Bonfire flames crackle on in the background, pops and jitters almost sounding like the sparking of an unprotected wire.
“I won’t fucking tell you people again, especially you Teddy Milton, shut it!!”- thunders the portly man, quieting down the last of the restless spectators. He bends down to complete the row of now primed fireworks, directed upwards in stony silence, awaiting the embrace of the dotted night sky. The portly man lights a match and sets it down on to a thickened fuse branching off to each firework. “Ere we go people, get ready for a fucking blast!!” he screams with glee, and the eyes of the titillated crowd widen, pointed upwards in collective joy.
I refrain from following the crowds’ gaze however. I look instead into the heart of the crowd, the ecstatic joy plastered on the children’ faces, lights reflected and dazzling the faces of lovers and couples. The yelps of anxious pets, gummy laughter of the old and infirm, the linger of a smoked sausage scent. All these tiny delights, like the scattered bursts of the fireworks overhead, together lighting up the night sky.
