Fireflies

The wind whistled wearily and the air was filled with the clacking rattle of icicle chimes that hung from the pines. "Papa!" Sophie shouted. Her voice cracked the air like a whip, scattering a ripple of echoes that did nothing else but mock her. Needle-sharp wind pricked then a wince and a staccato of chattering teeth followed. Like an unsupervised jackhammer, her jittering jaw clicked madly, blurring the line between panic and hypothermic fidgets. “Papa!” She frantically called, and nothing but a chili whisper of wind replied. 

6:23pm–five hours since her father left to gather wood. It doesn’t usually take Papa this long to gather wood, She thought, How far had he gone? Sophie tucked her hands under her arms and stood amidst a sea of trees, sweeping her gaze across the snow-blanketed pines in search of him. “Where are you, Papa?” She whispered as puffs of vapor fled her lips. She blamed her shivers on the wind, but her rapid heartbeat and the way her desperate eyes dashed across the thickets revealed the truth. Nightfall approached and the sun stretched its golden fingers through the branches to wave goodbye before plunging her into the darkness. 

Owls and insects, foxes and wolves­–all played their wicked theme. A darkened forest was no place for a teen to be alone and the evil sounds that greeted her concurred with this conclusion. She threw a gloved hand over her mouth and hushed, refusing to interrupt such a devilish tune. In the frosted forest, pitch-black beneath the stars, she remained as quiet as the snow.

She stepped backward toward her tent, raking her eyes through the woods. Silhouettes and shadows danced in the trees singing their godless praise. With each careful step, the snow crunched beneath her boots, snapping like crisp bags of chips. QUIET! Scolded her thoughts. Her heart gunfired against her chest, banging, trying to escape like the smoke that chimneyed from her nostrils. But no matter how cautious her movements were, her body was a parade of noise and wolves howled in response to celebrate. 

Quickly, she dashed inside the tent and zipped the flap behind her. She plopped down with her knees pressed against her chest and cradled herself. “Everything will be alright,” She said. Now wasn’t the time to let imaginations run rampant. Now was the time to hope for only good things. Sophie breathed warmth into her gloves and rubbed them together, “He'll be back soon,” she said as she rocked and swayed, “Yeah, he’ll be back soon."

But after half an hour in the belly of the ice inferno, she knew that it was a lie.

What if he's hurt and needs help? 

No, he’s fine. 

But what if he’s not? I should go. 

No, you should stay; he'll come back. 

But what if he doesn’t?

The night dragged on as did that evil melody of nature. The bitter sting of wind stabbed at Sophie's cheeks and cherry nose, her hands trembling as her ice breath no longer warmed them. “I ca-can’t just ss-sit here. I have to d-do something.”

But what?

And how?

And where could he be–

Alone in the snow-laden forest?

She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “Of co-course!” She stuttered. She threw her backpack off her shoulders, unlatched it, and spilled the contents on the ground. A box of matches for the campfire, duct tape, a clean set of clothes, a first aid kit, toilet paper, and a flashlight piled before her. She picked up the flashlight and flickered it on and off. Thank God. Stuffing the rest of the contents back into the bag, she slung the backpack over her shoulders once more. With a quivering hand, she unzipped the tent and took a deep, chilled breath spilling goosebumps down her skin. "Alright, Papa, I'm c-coming."

Emerging from the tent, she stepped outside into the eerie arctic night and peered into the dazzling night sky. The speckled constellations twinkling on the black canvas held no charm to her. After all, how could she admire heaven when she was alone in frosty hell? She dismissed what should have been a breathtaking experience and pivoted into the unknown.

Sophie snuck through the canopied woods, her eyes darting through the thickets, wide and alert. A gossip in the trees and a whisper in the snow spread rumors in her wretched mind. "Everything is okay," She whispered. An owl in the trees sat and watched as Sophie crept through the forest, shaking as she flickered the morse code . . . - - - . . . with her flashlight. "Follow the light, Papa," She said, snooping through the icy grove.

Then suddenly, in the distance, somewhere in the trees, a light‒a small, beautiful, lovely light‒responded in the dark. “Papa!” Sophie belted aloud, unfazed by the wicked wild. She crunched through the snow, forcing her way through the oppressive pines as thickets clawed at her face. The flittering light drew closer. “Papa!” She screamed and her heart couldn’t maintain. “Papa!” And the night was awake. She jumped from the cluster of trees and shouted, “Papa!”

But her body froze and her heart skipped every beat when her eyes fell upon what stood before her. She threw her hand to her mouth and let out a squeal holding back her scream. That hopeful, wonderful glare she pursued was nothing more than moonlight sparkling off the wolf's unholy eyes. The white wolf grinned and its ravenous teeth gleamed in her spotlight.

“Oh God!” She whimpered in her glove.

Sophie clicked the flashlight off and remained motionless in the snow-covered forest. The wolf and the girl stared at each other, each waiting to make a move.

"Goood wolf," She whispered with a trembling hand. But the wolf was in no wise such. It crouched, salivating while foam bubbled around its ivory fangs. Now was not the time to let fear run amuck. Now was the time to be brave. Sophie stood on her tiptoes and spread her arms wide, thinking if she became large enough, the wolf would be intimidated. But a five-foot-tall teenage girl would intimidate very few and the sinful look in the white wolf's eyes reminded her the same.

The wolf looked to the sky and howled to the moon. Now was not the time to be brave. Now was the time to run. Sophie shot through the forest and the wolf did the same; sprinting after her, galloping like a mad horse; howling in the moonlight.

“PAPA!” She screamed with all of her might, “PAPA!” but her echoes replied.

Branches whipped by, scratching and leaving lacerations on her face and arms. Blood dripped onto the snow only kindling the wolf's animal sense. Yet despite her best efforts, no one can outrun a wolf.

The white wolf closed the distance and lunged at her, locking its jaw onto her backpack. Sophie twirled violently, throwing the wolf off her back, and slamming it against a tree. It staggered to its feet and shook off the snow that clung to its fur. The wolf's unholy eyes grew more unrighteous as it dropped a piece of red backpack from its mouth.

Sophie's heart drummed against her chest, a sound that the wolf enjoyed. She wasted no time and sprinted the other way, booking through the trees as fast as her little legs could take her. The wolf chased after his meal, desperate for a midnight snack. "PAPA!" She cried in the sleeted woods. "PAPA!" But there was only the wind. The wolf caught up and locked onto her bag once more. It growled and sunk its teeth deep into the fabric, ripping her bag wide open and spilling everything on the ground.

With all of her strength, Sophie took the flashlight in her hand and swung it at the wolf. “Leave me alone!” She screamed. She struck the white wolf on its head with a force so strong it split the flashlight in half, shattering the glass and the bulb. The wolf fell flat in the snow and whimpered. It stood up and shook its head. When it looked into Sophie's eyes, it trembled for what it saw and ran off into the night, disappearing into the dark.

Sophie panted, trying to catch her frigid breath, then realized the worst. “No, no, no, no,” She cried as she rummaged through the snow, picking up pieces of the flashlight while attempting to piece it back together. But it was no use. What was done was done. She turned to the left, then spun to the right, but everywhere looked the same. “Papa!” She called to the silent woods, and only her heartbeat replied. Sophie sat against a tree, placing her knees to her chest, and whispered to herself, “Everything is all r-right.” She said with a shaky voice, “Everything is okay.”

In the glaciered garden, pitch-black beneath the moon, she shivered in the cold.

Minutes passed, and an owl flew down with a puzzled look, pecking at something in the snow. Sophie looked up through her watery eyes and stared at the owl. The owl looked at her, tilted its head with a curious look, and flew away in silence.

Sophie’s eyes widened and a sudden hope washed over her. She gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth as she looked at where the owl had stood. Peeking from beneath the snow, a small red box had the word “Matches” etched on the cover.

Quickly she scrambled to save the little box, dusting off the snow. She slid open the box and inside sat eight hopeful matches. She retrieved the first match and like a reverse birthday wish prayed, “Please, God, bring Papa back to me,” and then struck the match. The match ignited, flickering through the dark, illuminating a tiny bubble of light around her.

She rose to her feet and walked through the forest. “Papa!” She yelled, but still nothing but a breeze. Match after match, like fireflies in a garden, Sophie lit up the snow-capped forest. And although it still sang its sinister song, there was nothing left to fear except forever losing her father.

Sophie reached into the box, feeling around until she noticed she was on her last wooden fire stick. “Oh God, please, please!” She begged. And with a final strike, she lit the match. “Papa!” She screamed, “Papa, please!”

The flame reached her fingertips and snuffed out between them leaving behind a single whisp of smoke. Alone in the winter woods, she stood without any hope at all. Until in the distance, somewhere in the trees, deep within the night, she saw the pattern . . . - - - . . . flicker in the dark.