The lights were blinding.

They circled and blurred and shone colours of the rainbow. It was dizzying, like I was part of a dream. Children laughed and screamed, enjoying this pointless fun, adults smiling warmly at them. Didn’t they think this whole thing was a huge waste of money?

The air was fresh with a slight hint of sweetness in it. It smelled like citrus sweets and cotton candy and nostalgia.

I felt myself physically apart of this scene, this picture of innocence and happiness. I was getting ready to strike, to paint it in colours of tragedy and bloodshed.

There was a couple sitting farther back, also apart, in their own world. They were staring into each other’s ’ eyes like there were vast galaxies, soaring heavens in them. Like if they looked away for a second too long they would miss a star-fall.

How would those worlds look when one of them would be killed in front of the other? How would you describe trauma in a setting?

A little kid dropped his ice cream on the floor, immediately bawling his eyes out. His mother fluttered around him, concerned, trying to comfort him.

A few seconds later he froze. All of them did.

There was the booming sound of a gunshot, piercing through the buzz of the crowd. Distantly, the carousels still spun and the happy music played almost hauntingly.

Then they started to scream and run like little ants. I almost felt sorry for them, really.

But wasn’t it just so fun…

To wreck a beautiful picture?