The Last Jubilee

The heavy iron clapper struck the bronze bell for the final time. Through the wooden floorboards, he felt the majestic, rhythmic tremors of the grand parade marching below. Outside the arched window, the pitch-black night was illuminated by blinding, dancing ribbons of crimson and gold. A blistering wave of heat washed over his face, and he smiled, feeling the comforting warmth of the grand festival bonfire. Tears of absolute pride welled in his cloudy eyes as he bowed his head in reverence. He had no idea that, beneath his feet, the town had already ceased to exist.