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A cacophony of celebration exploded about. Times Square was alive with festivities and flare. Streamers traced the top of skyscrapers above the crowd. The area was armed with massive speakers, 24" Celestions blaring. Fires flowered in towers ten feet high. In the shroud of smoke, their smiling teeth shone. Pastel colours swirled into dancing images of fervent felicity on the television screen. In front of the cheering faces a reporter loudly lectured the mass media microphone. As you see around me, celebration is about. The ecstatic masses are amassed here for one reason. Today is the promised season, the rise of a new sun. The past is gone. Tonight the new light will be shed on these eager eyes, fortune knows the size of smiles that will stretch their cheeks. We have waited anxiously for weeks, but today doth mark the new day for mankind. Spotlights sparred in the skies. The grounds were scarred with scaffold, podiums and pulpits. The darkness of night was lit to day by electric light and the shadows were stolen away. Spiked punch fused with booze bounced and splashed in the hands of the merry masses. Laughter flickered in their faces at stories of the past. But the festival was fidgety with anticipation-- awaiting the elation of their new predestination. Their past spiraled to the spires of smoke smoldering from the blaze. They were alight with the delight of this distant haze. Like the platoons of bulldozers before them, the prior past was plowed down for the future to be founded. Like the billows of carbon dioxide that bellowed from the exhaust pipes of John Deer and Caterpillar, the past was lost in echoing fetors of clouds of smoke. All sins forgiven. All faults forgot. It is the new day, the rise of a new sun-- one that shines for everyone. Not a face ignored, oppression would be no more. Hands were held and tongues tangoed. They threw their arms around one another and held their future.
Approximate Word count = 1289
Approximate Pages = 5.2
(250 words per page double spaced)
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