Bonfire night story

There once was a tiny spark born when a match was struck to light a candle.

The spark danced and spun in the candle flame and was happy. The candle burned bright on the windowsill, and the spark looked out through the window where she saw the stars twinkling and winking in the dark night sky. Burning brighter with yearning, the spark flew up up on the hot air above the candle flame, until she WHOOSHED out of the open window.

Out on the street below, she saw crowds of people walking in the cold darkness, faces bright with looking. Sparkling and shivering, she followed as the wind blew her hither and thither among the people.

They came to rest on the dark green of an open heath, and there the spark saw the biggest brightest flames she had ever seen. Burning brighter with yearning, she flew up up on the hot air above the bonfire and made a dancing whirling dervish with her new friends.

Out on the heath, both hot and cold from the fire and the night, the people raised their faces to the sky. Following where they gazed, the tiny spark saw a roaring WHOOSH of blaze and flame that burst into the darkness in a shower of sparkles bright and red and rainbow green, tumbling golden back to earth.

Burning brighter with yearning, the spark flew up up in the rocket stream and when the other sparks fell back down, she pushed on, on, reaching upwards ever upwards.

Far, far below, the tiny faces watched, bright and filled with wonder, eyes a-spark with the lateness and the heat.

Up and up the tiny spark flew, above the crackling fireworks, beyond the clouds, past the cold gaze of the moon until she came to rest in the velvet dark of the night sky.

There, she twinkles on long long long after other sparks had faded back to fire; and they named her Astrid, for that means STAR.