“The sky is blood!”

He screams and rushes to me, little hands gripping my thighs. I try not to laugh.

“The sky is blood?” I echo.

“Yes.”

I smile.

My brother Eli has the wildest imagination. Most nights he sleeps in my bed for fear of unknown things devouring him.

It’s almost concerning.

I stroke his blond mop of hair, scoop him up, and I’m climbing up a grassy knoll.

I set him down at the top. We sit.

“Those are fireworks.” I say softly.

The expanse explodes again, this time in colors of green and blue. He grips me tight.

“Fireworks?” He whines. I nod. “They can’t harm you. It’s just noise and pretty colors.”

He relaxes. “I like to color.” I grin. “That’s what fireworks are. Colors for the sky.”

He stared up, eyes wide and filled with excitement.

At least I managed to convince him of the beauty of fireworks.

Before long he’s making up stories about how one firework was on a mission to find his friends.

And not to long after that, he’s asleep.

Mission accomplished.