He had been put in charge of the night fall this time. He sat at the top of the watchtower, alone in the cool air, as the sky faded from white to grey. The job was mostly a matter of formality. More to soothe the worries of townspeople who took fairy tales too seriously. The bright sky slowly started to darken as night approached and he could feel the stone beneath his feet grow cold. The lantern hanging beside the unlit bonfire flickered in the evening breeze. He lifted it into his lap, protected the flame. It was far to important to be extinguished accidently.
As he inspected his breath on the lanterns glass, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something on the horizon shifted. A cluster of figures, high on a hill, stood illuminated by the grey sky. Kids, probably, excited for the night fall. But then again. He rose slowly to his feet, keeping his eyes on the figures.
Ones arms seemed just a little too long, and another's back was hunched absurdly. His breath quickened and he raised a hand to a rope suspended from the pitched roof. The bell above his head was large enough to alert the whole town. The muscles in his arms tensed.
The figure with the long arms knelt down to the ground, and the hunched one hefted a bag from their back. The kneeling figure stood back, having placed their fireworks in the ground, and the other struck a match. They stood at the horizon, whizzing and popping echoing down from the hill, watching the coloured lights illuminate the sky.
He let out a heavy breath and dropped his hand from the rope, shaking his head with closed eyes. The lantern had fallen to the ground in his haste and he stooped to pick it up.
It was growing dark now, the sky fading from grey to black. With cold hands, he undid the small latch on the lanterns window and held the flame up to the bonfire. The dry weeds lit quickly. Dark smoke began to billow out of the tower. He coughed as the fumes blew into his face and he pulled a cloth up around his mouth.
He watched in the silent night fall as the flames struggled to catch on the larger logs. Lights flickered on in the buildings below and tufts of blue grass began to glow through the darkness. Arms crossed, he looked out over the town.
As he turned his back to the hillside a gust of wind threw itself against the tower, catching him off guard enough to disorient and trip him. His hip hit the ground hard and a sting he didn't feel yet crept up his palms.
His ears rang. He shook his head for a moment before realising he was in darkness. Pulling himself to his knees he looked into the bonfire. Dead. Licked out by the wind. He stood in the darkness. Glass crunched under his feet. He'd have to get a new lantern.
He looked out to the empty hillside, shrouded in darkness, as the sky faded from grey.
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Cover Photo by Raquel Raclette
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