phosphorescent-sky

She hated fireworks. In New Year's Eve she would put on thick earmuffs, curl up in her room, and make sketches with her pencil and drawing papers. She would draw on and on, of everything she could think of except the fireworks blasting outside her window. When she was too tired, she would just slump and lie down amidst the scattered papers. It was an irrational hatred, and she never tried to bother rationalizing it either. People asked, wondered, speculated why the usually-normal girl would come to hate what others find amazing. She never gave a definite answer. She would either shrug, shook her head quietly, or say something along the lines