Nyctophilia (noun): the love of night

Festive chatter and cheerful babble decorated the air this night.

It had been waiting for its entire life for this moment: the instant of birth, the burst of ephemeral brilliance that took away the breaths of all beholders. At last, it will become just like the colorful flowers it admired so dearly.

A spark appeared at its foot.

Excitement and anticipation pulsed through the crowd, and…

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It shot up into the dark sky.

Against this lovely canvas of dark clouds, it blossomed into a blazing shower of enchanting sparkles and mesmerizing glimmers.

From all over the ground below, the people cried and wailed, not out of sadness but out of awe for the magic that lit up the sky.

And a heartbeat later, it was plummeting down.

The night sky seemed to widen its depthless jaws as it swallowed its last dying embers, all its light quickly fading from view. As it fell, it saw other bursts and blooms of radiance shining momentarily before fading away to the blackness of night.

But it definitely felt happy. Although dark, the night gave it a chance to glow, a chance to be loved.