Word: Fizgig

fizgig

[fiz-gig]

noun

1. a type of firework that makes a loud hissing sound.
2. a whirling toy that makes a whizzing noise.
3. fishgig.

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Elias made his way through the forest.  His arms trembled as he clutched his rifle so tightly that his knuckles lost their color.  He had no idea where he was, only that he was no where he had been only half an hour before.  The odd bright light had deposited him somewhere where the trees were unfamiliar, and were far thinner than those of the forest he had previously been in.  And what was worse was that it was getting dark, and he was alone.  His fellow soldiers were nowhere to be seen.  That meant he was vulnerable.  To die alone was the worst way to die.

               As the light of day turned to the red of sunset, then the black of night, he heard it.  A loud bang.  Gunshots.  He fell to the ground as more and more bangs rang out.  They sounded close.  Bangs, then an odd popping and crackling sound.  He took a deep breath and did what no sane man should ever do.  He went towards the firefight. 

               Every instinct, every fiber of his being told him to flee.  To live the coward’s life.  At least that way he would have a life.  It was better than feeding the crows, especially since there were none around to see him.  But no, the soldier in him forced him to move on.  To crawl through the dirt and grass towards the rapidly increasing gunshots.  Something about the sounds made him wonder though.

               They did not sound like any canon or rifle he had ever heard before.  The shots rang out loud and clear, and many of them were followed by smaller bangs or odd hissing sounds.  Could the enemy have created a new weapon?  That was unlikely though, so far from their isle.  And the scouts would have told someone long before such a weapon could be brought to bare.  Plus, the fact that they were fighting at night was odd in and of itself.  No torch or lantern would allow them to see much of anything, making aiming impossible.

               Elias moved until he came out of the trees, poking his head out from a bush.  What he saw was unlike anything he had ever seen before.  A large crowd of people, all gathered together, facing a lake, which was the source of the gunfire.  Only, the people were not being fired upon.  No, it was the sky itself that was the target.  He could see streaks of light and smoke shooting into the air, only to burst in an explosion of color and sound.  Streaks of red, blue, gold, silver and green spread out in bursts, rings, and cascades.  Sometimes these streaks formed smaller bursts that popped or hissed.

               Elias was enraptured and stood to join the crowd, the war all but forgotten in the sight of such grandeur.  His eyes struggled to take in the display of light and sound as it increased in intensity.  More and more of the colorful explosions filled the air.  People let out sounds of appreciation.  A few small children cried at the loud bangs while mothers comforted them.  Elias only heard these sounds, without really listening to them.

               Then, with a nearly constant barrage that lit up the night, it ended.  An almost eerie silence filled the area before the crowd sounded their approval with a rousing applause.  The spell was broken, and the crowd began to move about.  It was then that Elias really took notice of what was around him.  There were lights posted around, not like those that had filled the air, but more stable ones that had been built into some kind of lantern atop a pole.  They were far too bright to be candles, but they made it much easier to see than one would think. 

               The people all wore odd clothes of a style that Elias was unfamiliar with.  They were light weight, and were obviously designed for hot weather.  Even the women wore such things, much to his confusion. 

               “Hey, I think you’re a bit late.” The voice of a teenage boy said.  Elias turned to look at the speaker.  The teen wore a grey shirt with some kind of monster emblazoned on the front, and pants made of some sturdy blue material.  But by his accent, he was a fellow American, which gave Elias comfort.

               “Late?  What, pray tell, am I late for?”

               “Seriously?  Man, I guess it’s cool that you’re so into it, but the reenactment was, like, hours ago.  You seriously need to drop it.”

               “Reenactment?  What would I be reenacting?”

               The boy looked at him with a mix of confusion and teenage willfulness, as if Elias was the most idiotic man in the world.

               “Uh, the Battle of Lexington?  You know, the one they do every year?”

               “I…what?” Elias asked, getting more confused by the second.

               He was no historian, but he still had a decent grasp of famous battles, and he had never heard of this Battle of Lexington.  Sure, he had been fighting in Lexington, but that was still ongoing.  How could anyone celebrate something that was still in progress?

               “Okay, whatever.  You wanna be weird, go ahead.  Not like it’s my problem.” The youth said before walking off.

               He pulled a small, rectangular object out of his pocket and a cool glow issued forth from it.  Elias looked around and saw many others lighting up the night with similar objects.  In fact, only the very young or the elderly were not engaged in such things.  The elders sat or shuffled around the field, while the children either ran around and played with toys that lit up and made whirring sounds, or else clung to their parents. 

               Not sure of what else to do, Elias looked around and saw a small building made of well cut wood.  People were lined up in front of it, and more of the flameless lights made it bright and inviting.  As he made his way towards the building, others told him many of the same things the boy had.  That he was too late, that the reenactment had ended. Others commended him for his dedication and patriotism, while others called him a fool, or some other slur that he was not familiar with.

               Then something gave him pause.  A paper haphazardly discarded on the ground.  It was a large thing, with finely printed lettering.  The title seemed to be some kind of news bulletin, but of what publication, he had no idea.  But what he was sure of was the date:  July 4, 2018. 

               Elias felt his blood run cold.  2018.  That had to be a joke.  It was 1775, the middle of April.  This had to be some kind of joke.  A poor jest that his fellow soldiers were playing on him.  But how?  Why?  He knew of no one that would even conceive of something like this, let alone be able to actually execute it. 

               No, whatever that light was truly had deposited him far in the future.  How or why, he had no way of knowing.  But, at the very least, there was one thing that was obvious.  Somehow, America had won the war.  Somehow, though some miracle, America had earned its freedom.  At that was a fine thing to know.  

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Happy 4th of July to all the American readers out there!  And to everyone else, well, have a wonderful day!