Quote:
Mr. Thomas held the flickering match with an unsteady hand. Sweat creased his brow despite the cold and his only respite was the small warmth given off by the flame. Tears stained his cheeks as he whimpered. He thought carefully, holding his hand over the tiny flame to keep it from being blown out. A smudge of white in the darkness drew his eyes and there he saw the magician. His eyes grew wide as he fumbled the words on his tongue, trying to recall his name.
“Smith! That was it, Mr. Smith!” he cried, filled with an abundance of emotions – anger, hatred, grief, and fear.
He rose quickly, taking care to keep the match dry. Rain trickled down off the rooftops, flooding the alleyway. It was pitch black save for the light cast by the single match, but Mr. Smith's face was so pale it seemed to glow in the gloom. He had hair black as sin with yellow-green eyes like a cat. Silently he smiled at Thomas.
“Why...why did you do this to me!?” Thomas screamed against the pounding of raindrops.
Mr. Smith did not answer for a long time, but finally he said, “Because its what you wished for.”
Thomas held his breath, his hands shaking as he gingerly clutched the match. “I didn't wish for this! My house, my money,... my family. You did this! You took everything away from me!”
Mr. Smith ignored his accusations. “You still have one wish, Mr. Thomas. One match, one wish.”
His yellow-green eyes stared into Thomas' own, as if viewing his soul through a window. Thomas wasn't brave enough to meet his gaze and looked down at his match. “I want everything to return to normal. I want to go back,” he said. “I wish I could take it all back!” he cried as he blew out the match. Mr. Smith smiled and faded.
“Thank you for your purchase,” Mr. Smith said, handing the small matchbox to Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas smiled as he gripped the box of matches, examining it closely.
“So all I have to do is make a wish and blow out the match?” he asked for the third time.
“Yes, that is all. Ten matches, ten wishes,” Mr. Smith assured him.
Mr. Thomas grinned and shoved the box into his coat pocket. Then he shook Mr. Smith's hand across the counter and left out the front door. Mr. Smith waved as he left, following him with a “Please come again, Mr. Thomas.”
“Smith! That was it, Mr. Smith!” he cried, filled with an abundance of emotions – anger, hatred, grief, and fear.
He rose quickly, taking care to keep the match dry. Rain trickled down off the rooftops, flooding the alleyway. It was pitch black save for the light cast by the single match, but Mr. Smith's face was so pale it seemed to glow in the gloom. He had hair black as sin with yellow-green eyes like a cat. Silently he smiled at Thomas.
“Why...why did you do this to me!?” Thomas screamed against the pounding of raindrops.
Mr. Smith did not answer for a long time, but finally he said, “Because its what you wished for.”
Thomas held his breath, his hands shaking as he gingerly clutched the match. “I didn't wish for this! My house, my money,... my family. You did this! You took everything away from me!”
Mr. Smith ignored his accusations. “You still have one wish, Mr. Thomas. One match, one wish.”
His yellow-green eyes stared into Thomas' own, as if viewing his soul through a window. Thomas wasn't brave enough to meet his gaze and looked down at his match. “I want everything to return to normal. I want to go back,” he said. “I wish I could take it all back!” he cried as he blew out the match. Mr. Smith smiled and faded.
“Thank you for your purchase,” Mr. Smith said, handing the small matchbox to Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas smiled as he gripped the box of matches, examining it closely.
“So all I have to do is make a wish and blow out the match?” he asked for the third time.
“Yes, that is all. Ten matches, ten wishes,” Mr. Smith assured him.
Mr. Thomas grinned and shoved the box into his coat pocket. Then he shook Mr. Smith's hand across the counter and left out the front door. Mr. Smith waved as he left, following him with a “Please come again, Mr. Thomas.”
