Here's another one to keep you readers satisfied. Enjoy!
Rain fell heavily, lashing at the single sheet of zinc that formed the roof of the small box they called home. In actual reality, home consisted of just four large pieces of wood covered by the sheet of zinc. But the condition of the house does not concern us. What concerns us is what happens inside. Inside the house lay a table. Well, more of just a overturned wooden carton than a table. On the table lay the most wondrous thing in the world, which for security reasons shall not be named. Around the table were eight people of varying ages, heights and genders. Normally, there were usually only two or three people in the house at any one time, but today was special. No it was not because of the rain, though that did help put a damper on the evening. It was because of the item on the table that everyone was gathered around looking at it, giving it their fullest attention.
The tallest person in the room suddenly announced "It's time." Automatically all heads turned to him. Digging in his pocket, he was stunned to find out that he only had one match. This was going to be hard. Taking in a deep breath, he fished it out and turned it so it was facing the right way up. He licked his lips and used his fingers to dry a section of the box so that he could light the match properly.
Meanwhile, the youngest person in the room, who shall only be known Timmy, peered through the gloom at the tall man. In his mind only one thought ran through his head. Why doesn't he light the match? We're running out of time! His young mind had yet to fully comprehend the complexities of this ceremony.
Back to the story. The tall man took a few breaths to calm himself down. If he missed this opportunity, Tommy would never ever speak to him again. Licking his lips again, he struck the match. It flared for a few seconds before finally, it caught. Time seemed to stretch as though elastic. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand extended down to the table. He had only one shot, one chance, there was no doubt about it. Sweat trickled down his temples, but there was no time to wipe it. The match was burning out. Only microseconds left before the flame was extinguished. Where was it? Frantically he moved the match around, trying to spot it in the dim light. There! On his right! He quickly moved it down to the candle and held the flame against the tip.
And not a moment too soon, by his reckoning.
All the occupants of the house watched in wonder as the single candle atop Timmy's birthday cake flared into life. The wonder turned into pity the moment the match burned out and the burnt stump singed the tall man's fingers.
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