Flame Extinguished by Antonio Larson

The outside air never felt so cold to her, not in all her years, through tumultuous winter storms has she felt such a cold night. She shivered under the thin layers of cloth draped on her shoulders like tissue paper, clutching a small box of matches closely to her chest.

All around her, curling over her head like ghastly black fingers stood aged trees on the edges of a well-worn dirt path leading up to a distant town. Glittering lights sparkled in the distance, and she kept moving forwards, through the snow that rose up knee-high, hands clutching the box of matches to her chest as tightly as she could. 

She needed to make it to town, she knew. There was nothing left to eat in the house, not even a rat. She had caught all of them that had hidden under the floorboards and in the walls, and once they were done and cooked, there was nothing left. Mother and Father were gone too. She remembered waking up one day to their strange absence in the house, and the lack of a note or anything that told her of their whereabouts. 

That was nearly two weeks ago. Two weeks and all the cupboards and cabinets emptied. 

And now she was left with nothing but a box of matches to try and sell for some meager scraps. 

Still, she continued on, even as the feeling in her toes was lost, and slowly started to creep up into her legs.

It was when she was starting to near the border between the forest where her house rested and the plains that shepherds in town used for grazing that she felt she couldn’t move another step forward. She collapsed onto her knees, feeling that creeping numbness slowly rises up her body. In an act of desperation and self-preservation, she took out one of her matches, fumbling it with her shaking hands, and struck it against the box. It took her a few moments, but the head of the match burst into bright flame, bringing warmth and light to her surroundings. 

In the light, she felt herself warming up, but only by such a small degree that it had little effect on her. She held the match to her legs, trying to coax the feeling back into her limbs, until it burnt out finally, and with it, the light and warmth.

The feeling returning to her legs was not wasted, and she shakily stood back up and got back to walking forward. 

You aren’t happy, are you?

The voice came out from nowhere, striking right into her eardrums and piercing through the fog in her mind. 

She stood up straighter, scanning her dark surroundings for any out of place shadow or figure in the dark. She saw nothing. 

She thought about trying to call out to the voice, but her throat was dry and rough from days without water, so she tried to ignore the uneasiness in her stomach and press onwards towards the lights in the distance.

But the ice in her legs had frozen over again, and she had not made it more than a few more feet in front of her when she had collapsed again into the snow. 

The voice had crept into her head again as she struggled in vain to strike another match. 

Don’t worry. There will be no more pain, no more suffering for you. Soon, you will be warm again.

She agreed with the voice. Soon she would, with the matches she had meant to sell. 

She dragged herself to the base of a particularly gnarled tree, and huddled there, dragging her legs to her chest. She took another match in her trembling fingers and slowly dragged it across the box, lighting it and looking intensely at the flame. 

It might have been the light or her overbearing hunger, but she swore she saw something dancing in the orange flames. A vision. No, a memory. 

In the flames, she saw herself, far younger and happier than now. She was dressed in the same clothes, but not as tattered and brighter in color. Her face wasn’t gaunt, her eyes shining with youthful life. 

But no sooner had she begun to see that wonderful window of a past life when the match burnt out again, and she was left in the dark cold again. 

Go on. Strike another. They’re all waiting to see you. Come now… Light another match. Lead them to you…

The voice’s tone was more gentle now, encouraging even. And really, it was a good idea. She would still have enough to make it to the town if she used them wisely. She struck another match. 

The wonderful vision she had this time seemed larger, and it didn’t come directly from the flame but was welcome anyway.

It was a pleasant memory of her grandmother before she had been run over by a stampede of reindeer. The smell of her cooking reminded her of the last meal she had, and of her empty stomach.

The match was starting to dwindle back down to the nubs, and she was starting to become antsy. 

Light them all. Big flame. Bright! Lead us… Your family wants to see you…

She thought that the feeling of warmth was too much of a pressing need to ignore. She grabbed the last handful of matches and struck them all at once, filling the forest with a bright, searing flame. There was a swirl of visions that flooded her eyes, not stemming from the flames. She looked onwards into the visions, letting the warmth wash over her body. 

She watched the golden memories flow and shift in front of her, not noticing nor caring about the many-eyed creature that stood in front of her, projecting those wonderful memories from its monstrous eyeballs like sunlight from a magnifying glass. 

She smiled as she left the last of the match heat wash over her, and she closed her eyes in bliss before the monster leaped atop her and took her from this world.