The Girl With The Magic Light

Flash Fiction #29

It was a cold, dark night in December when Marion left the house with her mother. She had told her twin sister that she would go to the fair without her. Elodie was sick and had thrown a tantrum for not being able to come.

“Don’t go,” Elodie begged.

“I want to go. It’s the only night they have the magic light,” Marion replied defiantly.

This was a lie, but Marion was determined and nothing short of a natural disaster would keep her from going.

The twins were impossible to tell apart, were it not for their difference in character. Where Marion was curious to the point of being outright nosy, Elodie, while inquisitive, always rationalized every little decision, unlike Marion’s unbridled impulsiveness, which had gotten her into trouble more than once, and was now the subject of Elodie’s interjection.

“Something bad will happen if you go without me,” Elodie put on her serious face.

“What? You going to eat my secret cookie stash?”

“No. I ate those already yesterday. Don’t go, please?”

Marion was glaring at her sister, rummaged under her bed for her tin box, peeked inside and slammed the lid shut, confirming the dastardly deed. “I’m going to tell Mum you ate my cookies, and I won’t bring you any magic candles,” Marion stuck out her tongue and stormed out of the bedroom.

Elodie was sitting in bed, blanket drawn up to her chin, stomach in knots. She wanted to call after her sister but Marion was already gone.

Fresh snow had fallen during the day, and a trail of footprints of all sizes on the white blanketed pavement led to the fair, its music and merry voices of children coming to her from a distance. It was her favourite night, and she told herself that her sister was being selfish for not wanting her to go. She wasn’t going to let her ruin the fun.

Some kids were already running around with sparklers, and her eyes scanned the stands for the place where to get them. That’s when she saw a little tent at the far end of the fair, “Comet Sparkle” written on a sign above, in big, golden letters, with a giant magic candle pictured on it. The biggest, brightest, most brilliant sparklers, and she wanted them all.

Marion tucked on her mother’s coat and pointed to the tent. A quick glance, a smile and a nod, and her mother was back to sharing the latest town gossip with her neighbor, and Marion was off to the man with the magic candles.

“Hello young lady,” the man said, wearing a silk cloak with a large comet embroidered on it, eyes that sparkled from under his hat, and a smile that beckoned her to come closer, promising her a night of endless magic. “Come inside. I have just what you need.”

The red velvet curtains parted, and she entered. The scent of incense filled her lungs, sparklers of all sorts were sparkling, held by hands like hers, but she could not see who held them, their owners mere shadows, obscured by the light of countless magic candles. She became light-headed. The smoke and the incense were now so strong, that she had trouble breathing, as if invisible hands were choking her.

“No need to be afraid. You’re here now,” the man’s voice came to her through the fog like in a dream.

* * *

Elodie did not believe it. It was not true. Her sister would come home, she would come through that door, and they would make up and she would give all the cookies back. It was not true. She could still feel her, no matter what her parents said. It could not be true.

But Marion did not come. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and still, she held on to her hope, she could not imagine otherwise, the feeling, the urge for certainty was too strong, no matter what anyone said.

“Elodie, your sister is gone,” her mother said with a grief stricken voice.

“She’s not! She’ll come back!” Elodie cried.

“I know it’s painful but you have to let go.”

Elodie looked at her mother, eyes wide with anger.

“It’s all your fault! You’re the worst mother. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!” Elodie screamed and stormed off to her room.

* * *

On the night of the fair, Elodie decided to retrace her sister’s steps, wearing the same clothes Marion had worn that fateful day one year prior. Her parents consented, pained by their child’s torment, as well as their own over losing a daughter, unable to fathom losing another to the abyss of denial and grief, and so they all hoped against all hope to find closure.

A masked woman at the entrance to the park handed out sparklers to the kids, Elodie took one, but declined to have it lit. Not yet. She stood still, waiting, watching the light from the magic candles of the other kids swirl around the people as they kept moving in and out of the ethereal threads woven around them.

Elodie was holding her sparkler tight in her cold hand, trying not to think about anything. What would Marion do? Her breath grew short and little clouds of mist formed as she exhaled.

No one in the crowd was looking at the little girl in the dark coat. She was invisible with her curly hair bound back, her freckled cheeks and stubby nose, with her inquisitive, big round eyes, darting here and there. Then she saw it, she knew it was the tent, the comet, the man. Lips pressed to a thin line, emboldened by her father and mother close behind her, she stepped up to the man in the silk cloak and held out her sparkler as it ignited.

“Hello young lady,” the man smiled at first, but when their eyes met, he frowned and took a step back in disbelief.

“Remember me?” said the girl with the magic light.

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