What is this? A guest writer? Indeed, it seems my venture into the college arena has resulted in some connections! I met miss Violet last semester, via an online English class. We share a love of writing (and the sci-fi genre–you should check out her website, which is chock full of good fiction) and we’ve each shared a piece of our own on the other’s respective website. Violet’s can be found below, entitled “Bright Like A Firework.” It’s a very bittersweet piece, so it ought to fit in here quite well.
But wait! Before you head on down to that glorious piece of prose, hear a bit more about this impressive young writer:
Violet Thorne became interested in writing while in third grade, and finished her first full-length novel by age fourteen. She is currently working on a science fiction series, The Ether Agency, as well as posting installments of a sci-fi comedy, I Have Three Toasters and Don’t Toast Bread, on her website.
Violet is recognizable by her black hoodie, sarcastic jokes, and Gen Z enthusiasm for memes.
To learn more about Violet and her work, you can visit her website, vthorne.com, or follow her on social media.
“Bright Like a Firework” by Violet Thorne
It was the Fourth of July and I was driving home from a party. The beams of my car headlights stretched out in front of me, illuminating the empty road and reflecting from the little plastic pieces between the yellow lines.
In the distance, I head the thunder of fireworks.
I clenched my teeth, blinking tears from my eyes. What had I been expecting? What in the whole stupid world had I been expecting?
I slammed on the radio. A song started to play through the car speakers: “If I Die Young,” by The Band Perry.
You have got to be kidding me.
I let it play for about two seconds before I couldn’t stand it any more and turned the volume to zero. Silence returned, except for the faint whooshing sound of the air passing by my car and the tires against the asphalt.
I thought back to the party. I’d looked forward to it all week and been especially happy when I didn’t have to cancel last minute because of my treatments. So many times, I’d felt sick and not been able to attend some planned meet-up. Oh, not tonight, though! Tonight, I felt wonderful.
Why didn’t I just stay home?
The party turned out every bit as awkward as I’d feared it would. My friends hadn’t seen me recently, and they all kept staring at the bandanna wrapped around my bald head and giving me awkward, sympathetic smiles. You know the kind—they’re the same kind of smiles people give family members at funerals. Like, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Except, I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway.
Why wouldn’t they just joke with me like they used to?
Instead, it was all polite small talk—tip-toeing around the elephant in the room. What classes are you taking? Have you started any new hobbies? How’s your dog? Well, by the end of the party, the elephant was starting to get really sick of it. So, the elephant left.
I hated being the elephant.
I wanted to scream, thinking about it. But I was too tired, so I just stared at the road in front of my car and remained silent.
Two years. I swallowed. Two years left to live.
I’d be able to finish my associate degree. I laughed bitterly. Why was I even still in college? Seriously. I didn’t have a future. I felt the usual tightness wrap around my heart as I thought of it. Nineteen years old, and I didn’t have a future.
But I had nothing better to do, so I would finish. I would keep living like I was going to make it to a ripe old age, or whatever, but I wasn’t!
If I die young… I’d always thought I wouldn’t mind dying young. I believed in Heaven, after all. I thought, hey, the sooner I can get there… Besides, I’d always been a little on the depressed side. Never suicidal, but often sad and all-around disappointed in the world.
A lump formed in my throat and I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
I didn’t want to die. I wanted to travel and fall in love and all those other things that seem so stupidly commonplace and expected until a doctor hands you a death sentence delayed by only two short years.
A huge emptiness filled my stomach. What was the point?
My vision blurred, and I blinked rapidly, two huge tears tumbling down my cheeks.
Two years.
In that moment of blurred vision, those fractions of seconds, I drove over a rise in the road and the headlights of another car appeared in front of me. Fast. And directly ahead, too. In my lane.
I gasped, wrenching the steering to the side. The car’s high beams were on, and they were not just any high beams, either. They were those LED kind, so bright I was effectively struck blind as my car swerved into the ditch by the side of the road. A horrible scraping filled my ears as my car jolted to a stop. The headlights seared into my eyes for the space of three thudding heartbeats.
And passed on.
They left me in complete darkness.
I shivered, blinking, my heart half-bursting through my ribs, though my mind was held in the stupefied calm of pure terror.
Slowly, my eyes readjusted to the night around me, to the lights on my dashboard, the speedometer and the strip showing I was still in drive, and the dumb “check engine” light that wouldn’t go away, even though I’d gotten it checked twice already.
Subconsciously, I put the car into park, my arm weak as I moved the control up. Click, click.
I felt as if needles of terror were still lacing their way through my muscles. I put my elbows on the steering wheel and dropped my bandanna-covered head into my hands. The thumping pulse in my head calmed, adrenaline slowly coming back down.
At last, I raised my head. I looked out my driver’s side window. In the dimness of the night, I could just make out that my mirror had been pushed back. That close—it had been that close.
I laid my hand over my heart like I was checking if I was still alive. I was. Obviously.
Leaning forward again, I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel. Thank God.
I sat like that for a long time. I kept thinking, I could have died just now. Not two years from now. No, I could have died, a traffic accident statistic, the victim of a driver who had probably been drunk. Someone coming back from a party, like myself. Except, I didn’t drink. I couldn’t. I was only nineteen. Besides, it would probably have interfered with the treatments.
My life felt very fragile in that moment. The heart pounding under my ribs, the weak, shaking muscles, and the glaring blue light still burned into my eyes—all of it, so insanely fragile, like a thin, thin string, tying my soul to my mortal body.
Who knew when it would snap? Two years: that was what the doctor said. But who knew, really?
In that darkness, a strange calm came over me. I felt the cool sweat on the back of my neck, but I wasn’t scared anymore. We’re gunna die, it’s just a matter of time. That was a line from a song, wasn’t it? But it was so true. And, no one knew what time. I may have two years of time before my sickness sucked the life from me, but any one of my healthy friends could be struck by a drunk driver as I almost had been—they just weren’t aware of it.
I stared at the mirror, cracked and laid flat against the side of my car. I’d better straighten it out, hadn’t I?
I grasped the door handle and pushed the car door open. I got out, bracing myself against the side of the car, my head swimming for a moment.
I felt the warm summer night air against my face, and my thoughts cleared. I closed the door and leaned my back against it. Using one hand, I pushed my mirror back into place. A piece of glass fell to the ground as I did so. I realized the ditch was shallow, and the hot July weather had dried up the mud. I should be able to drive my way back onto the road.
I sighed, laying my head back against my car, my eyes fixed on the huge expanse of the dark sky above me.
Just as I was contemplating getting back in my car, the sky burst into color. A firework, the most magnificent I’d ever seen, stretched from one side to the other. It seemed to arch over me, red and blue and white light stark against the blackness. The boom of the explosion vibrated in my chest.
I would never forget that firework. All alone in the sky before me, it shone for a few fleeting moments, before disappearing almost as quickly as it came. But, I would never forget it; never forget the image it brought to my mind. A temporary fire, but more beautiful than any smoldering coals, no matter how long they managed to drag on their faint glow.
It isn’t the time, I thought, my heart racing again, but this time from excitement. It isn’t the time; it’s what we do with it.
I got back in my car. I strapped in, and turned up the volume on the radio. No, I didn’t like that song. I pulled my phone from my pocket and connected it to the radio’s Bluetooth system. I chose a song; something by Fall Out Boy with a song title that was way too long and made no sense. I didn’t care.
On the very first pound of the bass, I felt my heart leap. I switched into drive and pulled my car back onto the road. I grinned as I accelerated. If a firework, in a few seconds, could transform the night and leave a permanent impression on everyone who watched it—well, what could I do with two years? The song filled my ears with the rhythm of punk rebellion, but the rebellion I felt was not directed at the government or my parents or any authority figures, really.
It was directed at death, at the corruption which would one day cause my immortal soul to leave my body.
You can take me, I thought. One day, you will. But, I don’t care. I don’t have the time to worry about you. I may not live long, but I will do more in two years than others will do in eighty. I will be bright. Bright, like a firework on the Fourth of July.
Impressive story, isn’t it? Full of anger, bitterness, and despair, but turns around at the last moment to end the story with a high note. If you want to see more like this from Violet Thorne, check out her website.
I don’t know if I’ll have any other guest writers for a while–this was a spur of the moment sort of thing. Violet and I may exchange pieces again, in the future. You can see the piece I shared with her by going to her website.
Annnnnd that’s all, folks!
Hope you enjoyed and be sure to check out Violet’s work!
Word Technician 