Antony Belov

Fssh…

-We are once again joined live by our special correspondent on the scene. Herman, what’s the situation like over there?
-Good evening, Maria. It’s a very dire situation. Firefighters have been battling the flames for three days, but the fire has continued to spread across the factory. Reinforcements from nearby districts and local volunteers are helping, but it’s still not enough to subdue the inferno.
-Any more casualties?
-Sadly, yes. More people have been found beneath the rubble, with two in critical condition. Doctors are doing everything they can. But most of the factory is still inaccessible to rescuers. Reports suggest that staff were still inside when the explosion occurred.
-We can only hope for the best. Any predictions?
-It’s hard to say. Over a hundred specialists are working here, many without sleep. People are exhausted, but no one’s willing to give up. There’s still a chance we could save someone…

The report filled the room with anxious news, crackling through the speakers of an old television. Its paint was chipped, the image layered with dust and the sound scratched the air. Yet despite its worn-out appearance, the TV captured everything as if the events were happening right here, within these walls.

A boy sat on the floor nearby. His small legs stuck out awkwardly beneath a hunch so deep it seemed to twist his whole frame. With no one around to remind him to sit up straight, he let himself settle into whatever position felt comfortable. The pale, thin face would occasionally reflect the bright, restless images from the TV screen, mirroring all the hues of worry and turmoil. But he seemed untouched by the horrors on the screen; his attention was elsewhere. In his hands, he held a matchbox.

-… as you can see, the sky behind me is black with smoke and soot. The entire valley is cloaked in a thick grey fog. It’s hard to even guess the time of day here. Sirens wail everywhere, and the air is thick with the stench of sulphur or acid. It’s difficult to be here, but with joint efforts, we must pull through. And, of course, we must believe. Believe that the worst is over. Back to you, Maria.
-Thank you, Herman. We’ll stay connected and keep monitoring the situation. For now, a short break.

Tssh… The boy held a lit match close to his face, captivated by the greenish flame. It sparked briefly, then continued to live on in a delicate dance. Minutes passed as the boy watched absently, the flame waning and dimming, consuming the wooden stick millimetre by millimetre. But before it could reach its natural end, he tilted his head slightly and blew it out, cutting the flame short. A faint white wisp was all that remained.

The boy sighed - perhaps from dissatisfaction, perhaps even disappointment. After a moment, he looked into the open box. Amid the dozens of charred matches, a few were still unscathed. Placing the warm, lifeless stick among the others, he pulled out the next one... Hush...

-According to police reports, the number of thefts and robberies has nearly tripled over the past year, with violent crime rising by 130%. The city’s mayor emphasized that this crime wave is unprecedented in the past two decades. His statement attributes this to growing unemployment, affecting the whole country due to the recent financial crisis. The ongoing food shortage over the past two years also plays a role. Poverty in many urban areas has led to limited access to healthcare and even food, pushing some to break the law. Police presence on the streets has increased, but clashes with law enforcement are on the rise, with more injuries on both sides. And there are already reports of overreach by the authorities…

The broadcasts shifted one after another across the screen. A white wisp snaked upward from yet another extinguished flame, lingering for a moment in the boy’s glassy eyes. Completely vacant. Another moment slipped away into the depths of this weary emptiness, leaving behind yet another blackened silhouette in his palm.

The kaleidoscope of news reports kept spinning, indifferent to the blank gaze of its lone viewer. One more match remained in the box.

-… it’s like a nightmare come to life! I’ve lived on this coast for twenty years, and I’ve never seen anything like this. In the morning, I was walking to my workshop by the beach, and the ocean was completely calm… it’s just impossible… just impossible… Barely an hour later, I was in the back room, and I started to hear a rumbling from the direction of the ocean. I ignored it at first - just wind, I thought. But then it grew into a roar. I was working at my station, shut it off and listened. Then I heard shouting from outside. I ran out immediately…

Fwoosh… the flame was born again, and its small tongue whispered a story. It had so much to tell, yet so little time. The glassy eyes stared back at it. In that silent emptiness, there was no response to the flame’s lively dance, its urgent tale, its passions. The fire raced on, destination unknown, purpose unknown.

-… I managed to reach a barge and escape… but my home, my workshop… The wave swallowed our entire town, destroying everything. I’ve lost it all. But at least I survived… I saw people swept away in the streets, heard their cries… their desperate pleas for help… But there was nothing I could do. I just ran and tried to wake up from this nightmare. I still can’t believe it happened… I can’t understand… If there’s a God, where was he!?

The boy blew on the flame. Its story ended, never reaching its climax. The delicate ribbon of smoke spiraled upward, disappearing into the smoky veil now filling the room. Enveloping the space, the milky haze thickened, pressing down on the boy, though he didn’t notice - or didn’t care - as he surrendered to its embrace.

He laid the ember among the others, closed the box with care. Finally, he idly examined the drawing on the wooden cover, long devoid of any meaning for him. Once more, it told him nothing. With a sigh heavy with a profound, endless sadness, he tossed the box onto a pile of similar used and lifeless ones. Wrapping his soot-stained hands around his knees, he stared into the void, gently rocking back and forth…

In the white room, surrounded by thousands of matchboxes, the boy faded into the haze.