The Ink In-Between: An Anthology

One More Time

PROMPT: Write a story that features fireworks.

CW(s): brief mentions of gun violence, murder, blood, dead body. 

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"So ... this happens every year?"

The night sky is lit up by glittering showers of light, and Friday has to wrench her eyes away from all the brightness to look over to her younger companion.

She's not surprised to find Eva standing a couple of feet behind her. The young teenage girl also seems lost in thought, staring not at the light above, but at a couple of strangers in front of her.

Two lovebirds, frozen mid kiss; a stiff, unflattering, still picture of tangled limbs and puckered lips all too eager to meet, yet separated by the immeasurable, unsurmountable distance of time.

"You really don't remember?" Friday asks, no rush in her step as she makes her way through the crowd of silent, unmoving people to get to the younger girl.

Eva doesn't look at her, too busy poking a finger into one of the lover's unyielding cheeks. "I think I'd remember something like this."

"Says the one who can't even remember what we ate yesterday for dinner."

And Friday intends it as a joke, but there's nothing funny about the way Eva actually stops to think, how her face contorts itself in her struggle to remember, only for it to crumble into this dead nothing of a stare when she comes up blank.

Friday frowns, jaws clenched tight.

It's getting worse.

They're running out of time.

Again.

"We call it the New Year's Anomaly," Friday says, rushing to fill in the silence that's stretching out between them. "Which is rubbish, because this isn't really an Anomaly. Those are always confined to a space, not to mention inconsistent and random."

She looks up once more, taking in the show of fireworks, still frozen mid-explosion, that covers the night sky. "This is anything but."

Eva takes a while to speak, or do much of anything, really.

For a moment, the young girl looks terrifyingly close to those statue-like people around them, this crowd of strangers stuck in their festive limbo, and Friday is struck with the urge to grab her, shake her shoulders, or strike her across the cheek.

But then Eva is blinking herself awake, a bit of that spark returning to burn away the edges of emptiness that had crept into her brown eyes.

"How long does it last?"

Friday blinks, stuffing twitching hands into the deep pockets of her jacket. "A minute. An hour. Sometimes more. Been getting longer these last couple of years though."

When the girl turns to lock eyes with her, it's with a much livelier, familiar expression. The kind that reminds Friday of the good old days, those simpler times she'd spend showing the ins and outs of the Game Dimension to a bright-eyed, excited Eva.

"What if this is part of the Game?"

There's a split second of quiet thought where Friday just frowns. "What do you mean?"

Eva doesn't answer straight away, already making her way across the crowd, leaving the older woman no choice but to follow the young teen all the way to the dancing fountain in the middle of the town square.