Fireworks in Goose Creek

Don't remember the date. This was an assignment for the Institute of Children's Literature, a course by mail that I took at the turn of the century. They actually paid me $35 (I still have a copy of the check) to use it in an upcoming manual.


          The twilight hours of the Fourth of July in Goose Creek exploded with the traditional fireworks. The event brought many out of their homes on that warm summer evening. Vehicles of various hue burst through the intersections, scattered into stuffed lots, searched for a front row seat. A siren blared in the background. Clusters of people gathered around cars, spread out on blankets, settled into lounge chairs. The populace was prepared for the presentation.
          Firecrackers snap-crackle-popped in surroundsound. Bottle rockets screamed. Miniature starbursts leaped out of the north, south, east, and west. A yellow and pink clad, ponytailed, little girl jumped up and down, pointing out the impromptu pre-shows. A thin scent of gunpowder drifted past my nose as I noticed a single bright star positioned above the powerlines.
          All around us the beds of trucks and backs of vans had become temporary theater boxes. We ourselves were not too uncomfortable in the slight humidity, sitting in the back of our mini-van with the hatch up, munching pretzels and drinking Mountain Dew and ginger ale.
          And then without announcement, a short volley of whistling red and green lit the northwestern sky directly above the Westview Middle School parking lot. After a short moment, blazing white shooting stars dripping smoke soared into the air. Bursts of red, white, and blue. A bang of bright green. Puffy white spheres snaked through the darkness. Fireflies of orange, then a glimmer of silver hung in the air. A muffled BOOM. The evening train shouted back a reply. A glittering bang as bright emerald lights shifted to purple.
          A young boy cried, burying his smudgy face in his mother’s leg. The younger sibling in the mother’s arms seemed unaffected.
          Green dots were scattered into the sky; gold dust fell back to the ground. A massive explosion sent shock waves that rocked the van. Green crackles were pushed aside by a big red starburst. Pop! Pop! Pop! Golden poprocks in the sky. A massive multicolored disco ball of light hung in the sky and a group of boys nearby all exhaled an OOH.
          A fountain of silver sequins fell before the finale—an onslaught of colors that echoed off the storefronts. Blinding strobelight flashes shot out from a shower of white, a burst of blue, FLASH, green, white, red, FLASH, FLASH, BOOM, red and blue, BOOM, FLASH, orange, white, FLASH, FLASH.
          The sky fell silent. We waited for more. People walked down the sidewalk carrying or wearing glowing neon bands of blue and red and green and yellow that must have been purchased at an earlier event. A whoop burst from a passing vehicle. An officer’s whistle guided traffic out into the streets and through the intersection to form a long line back to our house.