The Little Boy Who Listened

I was just playing in my room when it happened. Everything went black. I couldn’t see the train track. I couldn’t lay the last piece - Joey the train driver wouldn’t get to go on the new track I had made for him. I cried out in the dark. 

“Mom!” 

I heard soft footsteps echo in the hallway of our new home and a light appeared in the doorway. The candle shone like a beacon, illuminating Mom in its soft, comforting glow. She crouched down in front of me, her reddish brown hair radiating warmth as she wiped away my tears from my cheek.  

“Oh, darling.” she smiled. “It’s just a blackout. I’m sure it’s temporary, don’t you worry. This is the kind of stuff your daddy fixes, you know. He’ll have it fixed in no time.” she set down the candle between us. 

“I’ll call him - he’ll be able to tell us when it’ll all be up and running again, and then we’ll eat some of that apple pie your Aunt Betty gave us yesterday, all right? But I need you to be a big boy and stay right here in the meantime, okay?" she said seriously. "I’ll leave this candle here with you - just don’t touch it, okay? It’s very hot.” 

I felt like crying again - she was going to leave me here, in the dark? - but then Mom smiled again and touched my cheek and I felt like everything would be all right. She rose up again and walked away, sliding away like a ghost and I was left alone by the candlelight. It was hauntingly beautiful, hypnotizing me with its piercing light. It occasionally danced lazily as my breath stirred it to life, swaying graciously from side to side to a music I couldn’t hear. It was no less alluring when it didn’t move either, it’s elegance reminding me of when Mom danced on her tippy-toes as Grandpa played the piano before he got sick. I wanted to touch it - but Mom had said not to. 

“Aww, come on, kid! How bad can it be?” said a dark figure behind me. Another figure sighed.

“You know what Mom said. Be a big boy and don’t touch the candle.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like real big boys do that - Daddy put out a candle with his bare hand just last week, ‘member?”

The second dark figure paused for a moment. 

“That is true. But Mom said not to! She said- uh… right, she said it was hot!” it exclaimed. 

The first figure nodded thoughtfully.

“She did say that, it is true. But what if she lied, had you thought of that?”

“Mom doesn’t lie.” said the second figure decisively. “She even said why Rufus went away! She said she never wanted to lie, and that’s why she said he died, even though she did say that Emil couldn’t know. His parents told him Rufus ran away, but Mom- she told the truth!”

It used to annoy me slightly how I could never get a good look at them, but I had long since stopped trying. 

The first figure shook its head and sighed.

“Look, I dunno what to tell you - she could definitely be lying. I’m just saying!” it raised its hands calmingly, “She did lie about broccolies being tiny trees, don’t you remember that? Rico’s parents said they weren’t.” 

“Yeah, but that’s Rico’s parents. We don’t know if they were telling the truth or not either!” 

“True, but why would they lie? Besides, it just proves that adults can’t be trusted. Any one of them could be lying liars!” declared the first figure sourly. 

The second figure just shook his head and sighed. The first one turned back to me, and despite me being unable to really see it, I had a feeling it was smiling.

“Well then, boyo? What are you gonna do?”

I turned back to the candle. It was dancing again, swirling in all kinds of directions this time, like it was being spun around, and around and around before finally settling back into delicate tranquility. I swallowed nervously and glanced at the figures. Both of them seemed fixed on me. Blurry as they were, I couldn’t tell whether it was a good or bad kind of anticipation- but maybe it was the same thing for them. 

I hesitantly raised my hand and held it in front of me. The candle shone brightly in return, the flame of it seemed to stretch even higher and higher than it had before, making it even more alluring. It seemed to call to me.

But what if Mom would be mad? 

“Do it!” whispered the first voice, right by my ear.

“Yes, do it!” whispered the second figure in my other ear, seemingly having changed their tune. “Prove that you’re a big boy - like daddy!”

I could feel it pressing against my back, pushing me down. They kept whispering, how I was weak, how I was a scaredy-cat and I would never be a big boy. How I didn’t dare.

Before I knew it, my finger was in the flame.

“Ow!” I flinched and drew it back. It stung and burned. 

“So, it did burn.” noted the first figure. 

“That it did.” agreed the second figure. The two of them became quiet again as my eyes began to sting almost as much as my finger. Tears were suddenly running down my cheeks and I was just gonna cry out again, like I did earlier, when the dark figures spoke. 

“Oh, no! You can’t shout for her now - she’ll know what you did!“ said the first figure.

“Yeah, exactly.” said the second one. “Mom told you not to touch the candle but you did so anyway - she’ll hate you forever now! You’ve been bad.” it whispered. 

The cry died in my throat and I sniffled. 

“What do I do then?” 

“You come with us.” they answered confidently.

I looked at my burning finger - it had turned all kinds of red now - and then at the door, then back again at my finger. 

“How?” 

I didn’t need to be able to see them to know - they were grinning.

“This way!” they said gleefully, and the window slid open and a cool breeze swept through the room. 

I stood up and slowly wobbled my way towards the window. I had to climb the toy chest first though, but it wasn’t nearly the challenge it had been a little while ago. Outside it was pitch black - not even the moon was out tonight, although I was pretty sure there was grass right in front of me, because my room was on the ground floor. I glanced back at the candle. It looked so small. The wind was constantly throwing it around and making it flutter, never getting a moment's rest. The darkness surrounding it seemed to slowly creep closer with every second that past and soon even I knew it would be gone. 

“Come!” the figures shouted. 

I turned around, and that was the last I ever saw of that candle. 

***

Little Joey - he’d named the train driver after himself - was never to be found. His parents looked and looked, but neither they nor the police could even get a trace of him. All they had left of him was an opened window, a blown out candle and an incomplete train track, with it’s last piece never to be returned to where it was supposed to be.