He hoped it would never happen again.
On that particular day there was more than the usual number of people in the house. Most of them he didn’t recognise at all. For him, it was all rather confusing and more than a little frightening. There was lots of talking and laughter and occasional shouting that jangled the nerves.
It was so cold in the garden. He wasn’t at all sure why he was there. He could smell things he had never smelt before. The noises were horrible.
Great coloured patterns filled the black sky, flashes so bright that they hurt his eyes. Bright orange streaks shooting upwards and making whooshing sounds as they go. As it grew dark he was carried everywhere. He cried a lot.
He hoped it would never happen again: but for everybody else it was just another Guy Fawkes Night.
