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Evening fell over the old city. The wind sneered through the houses, sharp like blades and cold like ice. Amidst of the empty streets and settling darkness, a single man had been wandering. The snow had seeped through his shoes and clung to his clothing. A gust of wind had stolen his hat, and his gloves, so full of holes and so worn, had slipped of his hands. They had belonged to his father, whose hands he remembered to be so warm. And so the man went on, hunched over and arms crossed over his chest to protect whatever warmth he had left. But the cold had crept into his bones long ago, nestled itself in his heart. In his pocket he carried one box of matches. He had bought it from a little girl, and seen the merriness on her face when he gave her all the cents he had carried on him. The money had had no value to him. But, he thought, maybe the warmth of a single match could melt the frost on his heart and lighten the gloom in his head.
Derek shivered violently, and his stomach growled. A picture of misery he was; merging into the night’s shades. Dirt and ice clawed into his clothing and hair. Light had become a stranger to his eyes. Even the rays of candlelight that shone through the windows didn’t reach him.
He dragged his numbed feet through the snow, leaving behind heavy footsteps. When the pain in his legs became too strong, he leaned against a wall. Slowly he collapsed. Like he had been doing for years. He felt a painful tingling going through his body before even that faded away. But he could not return home, for home had burned to the ground many years ago. Now he had but walls and empty rooms.
His hands were trembling as he tried hard to take the box of matches. Oh, the thought of heat to his frozen fingers made him a little desperate. If his shaky hands could only hold a match and rub it against the wall. He drew one out and lit it. It was funny how the fire that once killed his family now kept him alive. He would smile if his face wasn’t crisp and stiff from the night’s chill. The warmth prickled his skin, and the flame reflected in his eyes. It gave such a bright light, such a strange glow. It was so intense he thought there was a fire place before him. He could feel the heat, gentle and embracing. The scent of burnt wood was an old friend of him. He stretched out his hand to feel the warmth better, but the little flame disappeared, and together with it the fire place. Derek stared at the smoke rising from the leftover of the match.
He struck another match against the wall. It shone vividly, and when the light fell upon the wall it became transparent like a thin veil. He peered into the room behind it. In there a family was dining, food and smiles galore. He recognised them, mother, father, sisters, and all the people he held dear. Mother Talia turned to him, smiling and opening her arms. She stepped towards him, leaning down to hold her son in her arms. He tried to reach for her too, but the match went out and his hand bumped into the thick, cold wall.
The next match was lit, and grew to be just as luminous as the other ones. He saw a forest appear around him. All the wonderful memories he had from the woods came alive. It smelled of damp earth and mossy old trees. He was sitting underneath the tallest tree, and it was bigger and wider than any other tree he had ever seen. Flowers were blooming on the low branches; they were crisp white and almost as illuminating as the flame itself. They hung just above his head, as if it were spring already. He raised both his hands towards the blossoms, but the match fell from his hand and went out. Gone was the big tree and its beautiful flowers. Though, the white lights were still there. He gazed at them now, without a flame, because they were the stars he could see high in the sky. A stroke of light shimmered in between the many stars.
“There goes another soul”, he thought to himself. He could almost hear his mother’s voice as she told him fairy tales about souls and stars, when he was still a child and she was still alive.
He lit another match and watched the tiny light grow brighter. His mother appeared to him, standing suddenly in the glow of the flame. She smiled so dearly, so tenderly to him.
“Mama!” He cried. “Please, don’t leave me alone! I know you will disappear when the match is burned out. You will vanish like the warm fire place, the family dinner and the old forest!”
The motherly love from her side was so strong that she bent down to him, tears in her eyes. Her hot breath touched his face as she leaned towards him and whispered, “I love you.”
And when the light dimmed he struck another match, and see, his father stood before him now. “Oh papa,” he murmured, a familiar sting in his eyes, “Stay with me, I beg you.”
His father looked at him, endearingly. “Son,” He said, and he reached out to embrace his forlorn child. For in the father’s eyes the lone man was still the little boy he used to be. But before Derek could find solace in his father’s arms, the light faded.
And he lit two matches at once. At his feet now, his sisters sat. Upon seeing their brother they smiled. Little Cora being barely a few years old and his elder sister, Laura, appeared younger than he was now. They looked just like they had once looked, before the fire had turned the joy within them to ashes. They looked beautiful, for life had returned to their eyes. The dullness and fear they carried around in the present had vanished all at once, and the memory of their gloomy faces became unreal.
And he struck the last few matches all at once, his hands aching and trembling still. Tears froze on his cheeks and he wished only for there to appear someone that could save him. Save him from the misery that life had become. He stared into the flames and hoped to be gone soon, to find peace and rest. He looked up, and in the glow of the fire an unfamiliar figure hovered over him. A young man, healthy and wealthy he seemed. The stranger bent down to him. Derek tried to move or speak, but the numb had spread too far now. And he thought to himself that it must be the saviour he needed. Perhaps it was the angel that would guide him to his eternal slumber. The young man moved and gestured and spoke, but everything just rolled over Derek. The last thing he saw was the stranger's face, glowing red in the already dimming light. And he felt warm hands on his cheeks. It felt so nice, so great. Then it faded away, and the whole world did too. But at least he had not been alone. His wish, so dear to him, had been fulfilled at the very last.