Every night, when the street-lamps went out, and all the house lights flickered off, a group of people travelled swiftly through the air. Under their feet were thin, surf-like mechanisms—hover boards. The hover boards rode the air, their graceful, streaming lights of various colors painting the wind behind them. Each rider always rode silent, and remained that way the entire night; things such as words were meaningless when you could fly.
Joseph, a young boy of eleven, was the only one who watched the riders. At the same time every night, he would climb out of bed, tip-toe to his his porch, and sit still in the darkness, waiting for that brief fifteen, maybe twenty seconds he saw the riders fly. Joseph dreamed of joining them one day. Dreamed of flying, soaring with them, the world around him an artistic blur. He dreamed of riding by and seeing a young boy, like himself, sitting on his porch, awed by the colors the boards emitted, the ease with which the riders rode, the freedom they held in their hearts and displayed through their craft. He dreamed of that.
Late one night, when the street-lamps went out and the house lights flickered off, Joseph crept from his room—careful not to wake his parents—and descended the stairs. Once at the bottom, he made a beeline to the front door, opened it, and shut it behind him, its hinges giving off a high creak; the lock clicked letting him know it was entirely closed. Then, mimicking what he did every night, he sat on his front porch, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them, patiently waiting.
The color black clutched the night, silence overtaking it as well. Occasionally, cricket chirps and hooting owls met Joseph’s ears, but other than that… nothing. The cold air brought goosebumps to Joseph’s skin, causing him to shiver, his jaw vibrating, attempting to force back the inevitable chattering the air instilled.
Half an hour passed.
An hour.
An hour and a half.
Still nothing. Joseph released an icy breath that would have been— if not for the darkness—clearly visible to him. His body started shaking, the muscles in his chest, arms, and jaw tensed.
They’re not coming, he thought. Why aren't they here? 
Feeling discouraged, he stood up on the porch, hugging himself, and took one last look out into the dark, coal-black street. He was mid-turn when he noticed a hazy, yet undeniable combination of colors approaching from over his shoulder. His heart leapt in his chest as his stomach performed a somersault. A broad grin shaped on his still chattering face.
Vooooom.
He let out a cry of excitement. 
In front of him, rode five riders, their relaxed silhouettes standing on the hover boards. Red, green, blue, purple, and gold lights lay resting in the air behind them, briefly still, then quickly dissipating, chasing after their conjurer.
One rider did a ballet-like twirl, making the motion looked remarkably easy, simple. It appeared to be a girl, for Joseph saw the rough outline of long, rippling hair twirling with her, majestic and graceful. Though Joseph could not see her, he knew undoubtedly, that she was beautiful.
Almost as if sensing his presence, the girl turned her head and looked in his direction, the red light glowing beneath her, lighting up her partially shadowed smile. Joseph felt a fluttering sensation rise in his chest, his body suddenly becoming very warm. Waving her fingers at him in a flirtatious fashion, she turned her head forward, that long, flowing hair whipping behind her.
The riders continued down the street for a few more seconds and then disappeared, the brightness of the following lights growing fainter and fainter. Joseph, desperate to see more, ran out into the street and chased them, sprinting on the cold concrete ground, completely barefoot. Cold air filled his lungs, so piercing it made his throat wheeze, nearly making him cough. But he did not care. He wanted to watch the riders a little while longer, to watch the girl a little while longer, to get one more precious glimpse of them. One more precious glimpse at the riders, and their beautiful flying machines.