Eery Island

The Firegiver

  The streetlights go dark, and Jenny knows the Light man is here. He carries fire in his pocket, she can spot the glow. He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt, the numbers faded. Jenny has he coins prepared. She sneaks out of the house while everyone's asleep. She disguises her pimples beneath a scarf, covers enough of her face not to be seen. The Light man sees her and stops, waiting. He drags his boots on the street. - Selling fire, he says. He takes out a small pile of smoky grass that glows with fire, like a match about to go out. - I'll pay, she says. - Pay what you wish, the Light man replies, his other hand outreached. She fishes out the coins and places them on his left palm. - You are generous, he says. Take one strand. She takes out hair of fire and admires its glow. She sees his face more clearly. It is the face of a man who hasn't slept for months. - Bring it to a candle, the Light man says, and begins to drag his feet again. - Do you want to come in for some biscuits? Jenny asks. - No, he replies. - But it is so cold. - Lass, I have much to do. More strands to sell. - Could I have your job one day? - Why would you want that? Do you know when the sun leaps out of the horizon, every strand I have left I'll suffer the lash of a hot whip dipped in ashes. Punishment for sins of anquity.. - So can I buy more? - No. More than one and your house will burn down. - I.. - Must go. Thank you for your kindness. Know at least you've spared me one lash. That is a good deed done. Jenny retreats to her house, runs up the stairs and uses the lit hair upon the tea-light. She knows she can make a small wish; something minor, like a cough to be gone, the pancakes to be perfectly fluffy, a missing cat to find the way home. She just wishes that the Light man will find more buyers who will wish for more buyers, and that he can spend a day without punishment, spared from pain.