"Trixie's done woke up. I heard her out on the front porch, moaning just like Mierd does when she's dreaming bad dreams."
"Well, take her this'n. Then you crawl back in bed and dream yourself some sweet dreams, little gal!"
Just as I squatted down by Trixie to give her the biscuit, I heard somebody shooting firecrackers—or guns—way off up the road. Trixie jumped up. She growled and lay back down. She sniffed the biscuit but wouldn't eat it. I heard some more loud bangs. Trixie heard them too and started barking. Then I noticed the sky was glowing—like the sun was coming up. It couldn't be the sun; I knew that.
I ran back to the kitchen.
"Papa, come see! It's a big, big light!"
Papa set down his coffee cup.
"Where's any light?"
"Up in the sky. And somebody's shooting firecrackers! There they go again! Hear them?"
"Yeah!"
Papa and Mama ran with me out to the far end of the porch.