The Last Countdown

The new year approaches, and as it does, cherish each second of life.

Carpe diem.

🎆

Revellers packed Franklin Street on the evening of December 31st, their steps in sync - though not quite perfectly - with the sound of fireworks.

Like everyone else, I was in awe - their patterns melded in an intricate tapestry of colours. But tinges of grey crept around the edges, like memories dying before birth.

And it wasn't long before people began to notice the bright, yet slightly off-coloured nature of the bursts across the sky.

They knew the world was being reshaped - but not quite how, or why.

Blue sparks traversed the sky like visitors from another world, and each seemed to claim someone's memory.

Hints of something no one could name - or wanted to.

🎆🎆

The countdown. Then, zero. Franklin Street was a mass of locked-in expressions.

The crowd's last joyous cries were visible only to me. Only I recognised the fear in their faces.

Only I could move.

🎆🎆🎆

Then, time restarted as suddenly as it stilled.

The captured fear and joy - gone.

Life resumed, and Franklin Street was once again abuzz with frantic revelry.

I stepped forward into 2026, my hands filled with fractured moments of joy, sadness, and significance no one could recall.

Quiet seconds that mattered, to cherish - now passed.

🎆🎆🎆🎆

For Mikeydred's December prompt: