Fireworks by Amanda Leigh

 Now for story number two, by Amanda Leigh!!

I wasn't sure at first what I was going to write for this prompt. Then I was lying in bed and a single image popped into my head, with a description to go along with it, which is how this story started. Then another image came into my mind, and I wrote the middle to bring these two images together. It ended up with a fantasy spin on it, which I really love. Enjoy this short story, and please feel free to leave a comment and share. :) 

Fireworks

Blues, reds, greens, and purples light up the sky above my head. Bursting into light one after the other on the dark blue, almost black, sky. They spark into circles and fade, leaving a lingering wisp of the colors, fading into one another and painting the sky like delicate watercolors splashed onto black canvas.

Blankets are spread out all over the ground, the damp grass beneath them. Sometimes someone sits in a beach chair low to the ground, or on the damp ground itself. There are dozens of people standing, watching the magical fireworks burst in the sky. Many of the people stand in small groups, forming half circles around one while they conjure mini fireworks and light shows right in their palms, to the oo’s, aa’s, and gasps of those around them. I take in the bright, beaming smiles of the children (and adults) watching the lights spark in the magic keeper’s palms. Eyes aglow, lit by the blue or red or purple or yellow lights. Sometimes I’m close enough to catch the light reflected back in the watching person’s eyes. I smile, too, as I look at the crowd on the huge stretch of grass, wishing I could stay here with all of them. Wishing I could stay here, in this town, my home, but knowing I can’t.

Observing is all I do until I reach the back of the crowd (or front, depending on how you look at it) and see a woman sitting alone a little off from everyone else, on a spread out blanket, legs stretched in front of her, eyes on the crowd but unfocused, far away. Her hair hangs over her shoulders, hands splayed out behind her as she leans back on them. My throat bobs as I gulp, knowing I probably shouldn’t walk over to her, but something in me desperately wanting to anyway. So, against my own better judgment, I do.

Before I have time to think it through too much, before I fully realize what I’m doing, I’m standing in front of her, blocking her view of the festivities, though I feel sure she wasn’t watching them anyway. Still, my abrupt appearance in her line of sight has her blinking and looking up at me.

“Hi,” I say.

She blinks again. “Hi.”

“Can I sit down?” I ask, blunt. “With you,” I add, gesturing to the blanket spread under her.

She hesitates. Her brow furrows. I just make it out in the dark; the scrunch between her eyebrows, wrinkling the skin between them. Then the raise of her eyebrows. She looks...confused? Surprised? Both? We stand in silence. I’m not sure how long it is, but it feels so long that I’m about to turn away, when her soft voice calls me back.

“Wait,” she says. “Yes.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Please, sit.”

“It’s okay,” I say, now convinced she’s only saying it to be polite. “You don’t have to…I didn’t…I’m sorry.” I stutter out my words.

“No, it’s okay. Please, sit,” she repeats.

“Are you su-“

“Just sit,” her voice cuts me off, but she doesn’t sound irritated, more amused than anything. So, slowly, cautiously, I walk onto the blanket and lower myself down next to her, crossing my legs under me.

She turns to look at me. “What’s your name?”

I falter, almost give her a fake name, think I should give her a fake name, but something has me spewing my real name from my lips. “Sienna.” I bite my lip, as if I can hold back other words I shouldn’t let out. “What’s yours?” I ask.

“Lana.” She smiles.

“Lana…” I taste the name on my tongue. “Lana…I like that.”

Her chuckle is soft and airy. “Thank you. Sienna.”

Darkness still shrouds us, but I can see her more clearly now sitting right next to her. Long hair flows down her back. It’s hard to tell in the dark but it looks almost lavender in color. Her skin seems to glow under the moonlight, and her eyes…they’re the closest to silver I’ve ever seen. I wonder is she a magic wielder or a non-magic? And if she is a non-magic, she has the most ethereal features I’ve ever seen on anyone, magic or no magic at all.

“You’re staring,” she mumbles, but she doesn’t sound upset, she sounds amused. When I focus back in on her, there is a smirk donning her pink lips. A small one, almost coy, and I grin back, though I feel mine is more shy.

“Sorry,” I mumble back, feeling my cheeks and neck heating up with a flush. The silence settling between us is not entirely uncomfortable, but I still feel the need to fill it. Feel the need to talk to her, to learn more about her, or even just to be able to hear her voice, or have an excuse to look at her. Instead of staring. At least if we were speaking, I could look at her and not seem creepy. Or suspicious.

She laughs it off, and want to hear her laugh again. Want to be the one to make her laugh. Or hell, have her make me laugh. It feels like a long time since I last laughed. I’m not sure I could even recall a time or put my finger on exactly when the last time was. But maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe the stress of this all has made the days seem longer, drawn out in weeks as opposed to days, made days not so far behind seem millennia away, lifetimes upon lifetimes ago. I can’t be trusted to tell anymore. But here, with her, with Lana, I feel I can slow down, be here, focus on time as it is unfolding, for the first time in what feels like a very long while.

She leans back again on the blanket, her profile in my line of view. I follow suit, lean back, relax my posture, or try to. I mirror the way she lays on the blanket. Her palms spread out behind her, fingers splayed out, legs straight out in front of her, head tilted back. At the moment, looking up at the sky, but the moment I get comfortable, turning to look at me.

Before long, before I even seem to know what’s happened, we’ve twisted on the blanket, facing each other. Smiling, laughing, talking like old friends. People have started to file out of the open grass area, the fireworks leaving the sky, and the mini lights show following their magic wielders home. And still we talk. About nothing at all and everything. Talking until the promise of dawn begins to touch the horizon. The dark inky sky lightening to a navy blue then to a cerulean, then kissed with a brilliant orange. I glance at it, wishing I could stop time in this moment, or slow it so much I never have to leave. But I can’t, and as the oranges and blues start to dance with soft pinks and lilacs, I know it’s time to go.

Before I do, though, I wish for one last thing, and since I’ll never see Lana again. I take the chance and ask her.

“Can I ask you something?” My voice is soft, almost inaudible.

Lana nods. “Of course.” Her smile soft.

I bite my lip, a nervous habit, suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I try to figure out how to ask her. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“You can ask…” she says slowly.

I smile, hesitate, wonder if I should be asking her this, and then plow on. “Look, I’m going to have to leave soon. And I won’t be coming back. I can’t.”

Her brow furrows. “Why-?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.” I shake my head. “I can’t.” I pause. “But, I won’t be around people very much, won’t be able to be, won’t be able to have relationships, friendships, of any kind. I doubt I’ll have much human contact of any kind. I know we just met, but we’ve spent the whole night talking. I feel…I feel a…connection to you. Could I…could I kiss you, just once, before I have to go, and probably never see you again?”

She doesn’t answer right away, I’m only met with silence, and her silvery eyes staring out at me. The silence stretches out so long I worry I’ve gone too far, and am just about to get up to leave her in peace, when she says so soft I barely hear it, “Okay.”

I blink, just beginning to rise up from the blanket on the grass now damp with morning dew. “Okay?”

She nods. “Okay.”

I nod, too, then freeze, unsure of how to proceed. She sits there, patient as she waits for me to move first. I gulp down a lump in my throat and lean forward, closer and closer until our faces are mere inches apart, and then closer still until our lips touch. A moment passes, and I brush my lips against hers in a feather soft semblance of a kiss. Her lips part, ever so slight, then I close my eyes and close the infinitesimal gap left between us.

Soft, plump, pink lips meet mine, and I exhale a tiny, soft sigh into her. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, all I could want from her. Her hand cups my cheek and I reach up to curl a hand around the back of her neck, holding her there a second longer before we break away, foreheads touching, and stare into each other’s eyes. Just a minute more before I go, I think, just let me be here with her just a minute more before I have to leave. Silvery eyes holding multitudes gaze into mine, and I have to physically tear  myself away from them, away from her, and wonder about what would have happened if we met under different circumstances, at a different time. If things were different.

“I have to go,” I whisper, voice cracking slightly.

“I know,” she whispers as she tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smile, gentle and sad, and reach over to peck her cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stays seated as I stand, one step at time walking off of the blanket, and away from her.

“Good luck,” she says as I make to turn around, turn away from her and this life for good.

“Thanks,” I say. Then force myself to turn and not look back. Part of me wishing to see her again, thinking that just maybe I could, but another part of me knowing we will never meet again.

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