It was the middle of the town's annual fishing festival, right at the tail end of the fall. We were at the top of a hill, she was cloaked in scarlet red as we lie beneath the dead tree and gazed through its branches at the stars. It was beautiful. Her hair was rather short and scattered, disorganized but a wonderful shade of black. Both of us remained still barely breathing, then I grabbed her warm hand and looked back down the hill where the main street was filled with vibrant reds and shining blacks, shimmering behind the tall fires used to cook the fish. People filled the roads, all crowded together, with decorations of fish and boats all around. All of the townspeople were down there, everyone participated in the festival. She did not enjoy parades because of the noise. She always had her ears covered for the parade, but she helped build it, I could tell by her hands, and I snuck off to the top of the hill. I found her there where during the fall it was normally covered in yellow grass and dead leaves, but with all of it cleared out earlier today, the hill was even more beautiful and soft with just the dirt. I never enjoyed crowds, they were loud and hard to get out of, basically like shooting fish in a barrel, so I left the crowd early and that's when the crowd got really loud, everything went off with a bang, the fireworks and the parade. It was so rambunctious it seemed as though the buildings were barely left standing, the whole town shaken. The festival was such a beautiful red and I am glad I came.
I always loved the color red, it seems like it suits everybody, and it does. Black is a similar situation, if you don't know what to wear, just wear black, it is a nice simple color. Too bad it had to be red, it was usually white.
