Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s lines are the ending of the book formerly known as The Very Next, my chronological second Atlantic City book.
It’s the end of 1939, and Cinnimin Filliard’s family goes upstairs and outside to take part in a local New Year’s tradition of setting off an egg full of fireworks. Two years later, this tradition goes horribly wrong when Cinni’s frenemy Violet stuffs the egg with stink bombs instead of fireworks!
This has been slightly edited to fit ten lines.
A minute before midnight, everyone crowded onto the fire escape. It was neighborhood tradition to stuff a large plaster egg full of fireworks, light a fuse, and send it plummeting to earth so it would explode at exactly the moment the old and new year changed places. This year, the Filliards had stuffed their egg with purple fireworks.
Cinni proudly held the egg as Babs struck a long match and held it to the fuse, and at a signal from Mr. Filliard, Cinni let go, throwing it with as much force as she could, to ensure it exploded better than anyone else’s egg. Her family always won the unofficial block competition, and best of all, this year the Vallis had joined them, so there was one less egg to compete against.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy 1940!”
The purple fireworks showering in all directions gave Cinni hope the new decade would be much happier than the depressing decade which was now the stuff of history books, no matter how ominous future signs were. It was like the butterfly emerging from Pandora’s Box and giving the chained, tortured Prometheus hope in spite of everything. Life is nothing without hope.