Ari could only hear the eternal booming of the fireworks, along with the spectators’ coos of wonderment, in which he was regrettably unable to join. A towering monstrosity of a tree obscured the source of all the excitement, its foreboding branches stretching down like regal arms in the midst of chastising their subjects. Peering up at the Creature, Ari strained to see past, to see the fireworks blossoming across a black canvas like new hope born on a desolate night sky. Yet, no amount of scrutiny would do. It -- he was unyielding. The Creature loomed over him, cloaked in darkness, an awful, unearthly apparition.
Yes, there was the occasional, miraculous spark of light here and there, but, just as swiftly as these precious, colorful fragments graced Ari’s vision, they were gobbled up by the shadows, seemingly with only a commanding quiver of the Creature’s arms.
He was grateful. Or at least that’s what Ari assured himself, for he didn’t want to see mocking, vibrant colors when by comparison his future was so irrevocably bleak. He was parting soon to move back to his hometown, and today was his final day here at the darling park where his lazy, Arizona days had dreamily and altogether too rapidly been spent -- leading up until today, the nation’s joyful independence day, much to the dismay of Ari, to whom the idea of American liberty only appealed when he was in the appropriate mood.
Which, I daresay, isn’t now.
The sky illuminated briefly. The light from the firework was so intense that it oozed over to where not even the Creature could conceal it -- before the darkness resumed its unsympathetic grip.
Denial was one of Ari’s many advantageous talents, and over the past couple weeks, he had more occasion to use it than ever, immersing himself into the formidable task of packing up his former life and the beloved memories it compromised as speedily as human condition could allow, but in this defenseless moment, in this darkness that reeked of inevitable finality, there was no way to avoid that unavoidable truth: his life would never be the same again.
The fireworks’ careless entrances became increasingly frantic. Each successive boom was greedier, more ostentatious than the last.
Ari remembered when he first received the news that he would have to relocate, in every sense of the word, his life back to the town in the east coast that he had grown up prior to here -- Ari had maintained a straight face and agreed rather nobly, he thought. He’d always considered himself a bit of a fine actor.
He regretted it, now that the curtains were coming down.
Is this my punishment for agreeing...without a word...without even a frown? Is this some sort of twisted prediction for the years ahead?
On the edge of a small hill some ways away, a child, her plump, crimson face an undeniable picture of joy, started to shriek in either terror or delight, or, more likely, both, at the fireworks’ escalating vigor. Ari felt a cruel sense of alienation as he observed her.
The irony of moving back was not lost on Ari. There was, granted, something wryly humorous about coming back to the very town he was originally devastated about moving from -- though, of course, now it was precisely the opposite. He recalled his old life with ease, for he perceived his story in two clean halves: before he moved to Arizona, and after. But Ari suspected that the lines would soon blur, leaving behind only a transitory frame of a moment. The wispy rays and waves of violet -- the harsh but faithful resounding of the horizon, always singing the same low note -- warmth surrounding him  --
A moment could never do this place justice.
And then, there was no more. The fireworks had ceased abruptly, without the grandiose, commanding explosion that Ari had been expecting would finish the display once and for all. Or perhaps, so caught up in his own long-suppressed, overtly sentimental turmoil, he had missed it entirely. People, content from a well-spent evening, began to pack up their coolers and chairs.
In a confused daze, Ari glared up at that terrifyingly still phantom but found that the end of the fireworks’ show marked the conclusion of the tree’s reign as a cruel, dark lord.
He folded his blanket, eyes unfocused, and went home for the last time.
That night, Ari’s dreams were filled with perpetual explosions of light. When he woke up, he would only remember catching a glimpse, if only for a passing moment, of beloved violet and kind warm colors.