The Little Match Boy

Disclaimer: I own nothing

It was a week before Christmas in 1845.

The holiday season had come to Central City. Snow was softly falling, shops and homes were brightly decorated, and everyone was buying gifts for loved ones and feeling quite happy. Everyone that is, except for one thirteen-year-old match boy by the name of Barry Allen.

Barry was anything but happy. Barry was a street boy with no real family to call his own. Barry's father, a highly skilled and well-known physician had been abroad for work but his ship had sunk on the journey back. Six months later, Barry's mother became seriously ill and passed away. With both his parents dead, Barry was sent to live with his Uncle Eobard in another city.

Barry quickly discovered that Eobard was far from a kind man. Eobard had been cold and cruel. Barry had never received a smile or a kind word from Eobard. When Barry had been unable to bear Eobard's horrible treatment any longer, Barry had run away from his uncle's household and worked his way back to Central City where he'd hoped to find a better life with an old friend.

But despite having left Eobard's house, Barry's fortunes hadn't improved in the slightest. When he'd gone to his friend's house, he'd learnt that they'd changed their place of residence and there was no forwarding address. Unwilling to return to Eobard's house or be sent to an orphanage, Barry went about trying to make his own way. After some many weeks and pleading, Barry had found a job selling matches on street corners.

At that moment, Barry was under a lamp-post watching people ice-skating and going about their holiday business. Tears made their way down Barry's pale cheeks. Seeing the children have merry times with their folks reminded Barry of his parents. Barry always missed Henry and Nora but the pain seemed so much worse at Christmastime, for he'd get swept up in the memories of past Christmases with his family, a time when Barry was happy and carefree and believed in hope.

But as the chill winter wind blew stung Barry's cheeks, Barry was reminded that such times were long gone. His stomach growled loudly, reminding Barry of how long it'd been since he'd last eaten. With a heavy sigh, Barry left the lamp-post and headed back to the busiest part of the city and resumed trying to sell his matches.

"Matches! Who would anyone care to buy some matches?" asked Barry, as he held up a small bundle of matches. "Three for a penny! Matches! Matches for sale!"

Barry tried his hardest but no matter how polite and friendly he was, no matter what he did or who he asked, no one would give him so much as a penny for his matches. People dismissed him while others sneered at "the little beggar" and some were mean enough to trip the poor boy into the mud and snow. Though it was the time of giving, nobody cared for poor Barry's misfortunes, not even at Christmastime.

By the end of the day, Barry was crying again as he dried off his precious matches and made his way to the alley where he slept. He could not face his employer after such a dismal day such as this, for Barry would surely be severely punished and denied his day's pay. So, it made little difference where Barry went at the end of the day, for his luck would be the same.

Barry's hovel was a tiny little hut made out of old boxes tied up with tossed-out strings. It wasn't much but it gave Barry a little shelter and somewhere to rest his weary head after a long day.

As the hour grew later, the temperature grew colder and Barry was struggling to keep warm which was far from an easy task. Barry's misfortunes seemed endless. He didn't have a penny to his name, he was hungry all the time, the cold weather left him chilled to the bone and ill, his feet were bare and blue from the cold as his shoes had fallen apart, the only clothes he had were threadbare and patched, and no one seemed to care about him.

Barry was a kind, selfless soul who didn't ask for much. He didn't want a life of privilege, wealth and glory. All he wanted was to be happy with a family that loved him and to have a roof over his head and food in his belly. But for all his hard work and hope, Barry was just a penniless little beggar in rags with no one to call friend. What hope was there to be found while Barry was in such a state as this? None whatsoever.

Soon it stopped snowing, leaving the night sky clear but the wind was still blowing. It felt like ice to the touch and the colder it got, the more tempted Barry felt to use his matches.

Do I dare use them? Should I even use one? Barry's employer wouldn't be happy if he learnt that Barry had used the matches for personal use and he'd surely fire Barry, but Barry's employer was never happy with Barry at all. The wind blew by again more fiercely this time and Barry made up his mind.

Oh, what difference does it make now?

Better to have a moment's happiness than none at all.

Barry took a match and struck it against the brick wall. The match became alight and Barry eagerly drank in the warmth of the flame.

Now, for all his cleverness, Barry had forgotten that around Christmastime, magic often worked its way to those who needed it most. Right before Barry's eyes, the trashcan that was half-buried in snow became a warm stove.

Barry's eyes were wide with astonishment but he didn't question the magic. He seized the moment to warm his frozen fingers and toes and enjoyed every moment of it.

Just as it had come, the magic left, for the match that Barry had lit had gone out and Barry was brought back to the cold, harsh night.

Barry folded over on himself and rubbed his chest as he coughed, long and painfully. When the coughing fit ended, Barry hesitantly picked up another match. Lighting the first one had brought him warmth and hope for the first time so long. Would the magic work twice?

What do I have to lose? Barry took a chance and struck another match.

This time, the alley that Barry was sitting in became a warm house and there was table with hot food fit for a king. The smells of roast turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, hot biscuits with butter, cranberry sauce, mince pies and other such succulent dishes made Barry's mouth water and his stomach growl even louder.

Before Barry could take a bite, the match went out and the magic disappeared yet again.

Am I merely dreaming of these wonderful blessings or is this the Christmas magic that Mother spoke of before she died? Barry wondered.

There was no one to answer Barry's question, so he was left to just wonder and hope that perhaps someone was watching over him.

Barry picked up his few remaining matches from the box. The magic had worked twice now. There was no reason why it would not work a third time and perhaps if more matches were lit, the magic would last longer than it had before. So, Barry lit the three matches that remained and once again, the magic appeared.

A sleigh pulled by magnificent horses suddenly appeared and then Barry was magically swept up into the sleigh. A beautiful red blanket with gold stitching was placed over Barry's lap and then the sleigh went off over many hills and through a forest until it stopped in front of Barry's childhood home.

Barry's curiosity was aroused as he got out of the sleigh and went walked up the porch steps. He peered in through the window but could see nothing and then he knocked on the front door. The door opened and the lady of the house was not one that Barry expected but nevertheless, made him quite happy.

"Mother!" cried Barry, as he launched himself into her arms.

Nora scooped Barry into her arms and held him close. "Shh, don't cry, Barry. It's all right. I'm here, sweetheart."

When they broke apart, Barry sniffled and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. "I've missed you so much."

If this was merely a dream then Barry never wanted to wake up and if it was real, then he was never going to leave.

"And I've missed you," said Nora, smiling softly. "Come in and warm yourself."

Barry took Nora's hand and walked into the house. It was just as Barry remembered. Not a thing had changed and the house was decorated for Christmas. There were strands of holly and pine, candles on the mantle, mistletoe in the doorways, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, and so much more. Best of all, there was a warm fire blazing in the fireplace and a banquet of delicious food on the table. It would've been perfect except for one thing.

"Where's Dad?" asked Barry, noticing his father's absence.

"You'll see him soon, dear," said Nora. "Would you like to help me light the candles on the tree?"

Barry eagerly nodded and took the offered match from Nora. Together, they lit the candles on the Christmas tree and soon it was aglow.

Barry snuggled in close to Nora as they gazed at the beautiful tree. "I love you, Mother."

"I love you too, son," murmured Nora, as she stroked his hair. "I will always be with you, no matter what. Remember that."

"I won't forget," said Barry, drowsily.

Barry's eyes soon closed and he smiled contentedly in his sleep.

XXX

Unbeknownst to Barry, the ones he'd been looking for had been closer than he could've imagined.

Barry's friend that he'd sought out after leaving his uncle's home had been that of policeman Joseph West and his two children, thirteen-year-old Iris and ten-year-old Wally. The West family had been close friends of Barry's family and Barry had harbored a secret crush on Iris for as long as he could remember. When the West family had moved house, they hadn't left Central City at all. They'd just moved far across the city and it was a rather large city, so there had been no way for Barry to know this.

At that moment, Joe and his two children were walking home from Christmas caroling with their friends and neighbors.

The holidays were Iris's favorite time of the year but she was not very happy at the moment and despite her efforts to conceal it, it showed on her face.

"Iris, what's the matter?" asked Joe.

Iris sighed. "I miss Barry," she confessed. "And Henry's always so sad. I wish there was something I could do to help."

A few months after Barry had run away from Eobard's house, it'd been discovered that Henry had not perished as previously believed. Henry had survived the ship's sinking but he'd been quite ill and injured and had spent a great deal of time in the hospital, in a fevered daze with no identification. It was a stroke of luck that Joe had happened upon Henry while visiting the hospital for work, for afterwards Henry had been brought to Joe's home to recover. Once Henry was well again and he'd been informed of what had befallen his family, he'd set about in search of his son but even with the constabulary's help, Barry had not yet been found and each day without Barry made the physician sadder.

Henry had not joined in on the West family's Christmas merriment that night as he'd been finishing a shift at the hospital where he worked, but it was suspected that even if he hadn't been working, he wouldn't have joined in for the holidays made Henry miss his wife and son even more than usual.

It upset Iris greatly to see her second father-figure so sad and she missed Barry something awful. They'd been such dear friends before Barry had been sent to his uncle's and Iris had even secretly harbored feelings for the boy.

"I do too, sweetheart," said Joe. He too, was missing Henry's son. Henry was like a brother to Joe and Barry was like a second son to the old policeman. "We'll find Barry sooner or later."

"And when we do, we'll play trains together," piped up Wally. "Just like he promised!"

Wally thought of Barry as his elder brother and he wanted the Allen boy back in his life.

Iris smiled a little but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

As they continued their journey home, Iris could've sworn she saw Nora Allen out of the corner of her eye. When she turned to get a better look, Nora was gone but there was a quickly fading glow coming from a little figure, half-buried in the snow in the alley.

Unable to deny her curiosity, Iris ignored the protests of her father and brother and went into the alley. The glow was gone and there was the smell of something burning, but the little figure was still there. Iris knelt down to the little figure's level and shook it, causing it to roll over.

"Barry?" gasped Iris. Could it really be so? It seemed impossible and yet it was so, for despite being so changed than when she'd first known him, the little freezing boy was definitely her missing friend. "Oh, my goodness! Barry!" Iris wept happy tears as she cradled her friend in her arms with great tenderness. "Dad! Daddy, Wally! Come quick! I found Barry!"

"What?!"

As Joe took Barry into his arms and began carrying the freezing boy to their home, Iris thanked whoever was listening for helping her find Barry at long last. This was truly the best Christmas present she could've received.

Everything's going to be okay, Barry, I promise, Iris silently vowed.

When the Wests returned home with Barry, Henry was overjoyed beyond words at his son's safe return. But there was little time to celebrate as Barry needed a great deal of help. Poor Barry's time on the streets had not been kind to him.

Barry was terribly thin and malnourished from lack of food and water and he was quite sick. In addition to the early stages of hypothermia caused by exposure to the winter elements he was enduring, Barry had also developed a case of pneumonia and he had yet to regain consciousness.

Barry was tended to day and night by his father, the Wests and the assistance of other physicians that owed Henry favors. Eventually, their diligence and care paid off.

XXX

At the crack of dawn on Christmas Day, after drifting in and out of consciousness all week, Barry finally fully came to. Barry groaned softly as he shook his head, clearing away the fogginess and blinking away the blurriness from his eyes.

The first thing Barry was aware of was the warmth that had replaced the bone-chilling cold he'd been experiencing for weeks and then he noticed the absence of his illness. His lungs no longer felt congested and he could breathe easily again. He was at a loss to explain how and why, and he was even more confused when he realized that he was no longer experiencing his dream with his mother and nor was he in the forsaken alley.

Barry was lying on a sofa in someone's parlor that was decorated for Christmas. He was bundled up in warm blankets and resting on soft pillows and he couldn't explain how this had happened.

What happened? How did I get here? Then Barry became aware of the weight on his arm and when he turned to look at it, he was both immensely shocked and overjoyed to see Henry's head pillowed on Barry's arm. Barry didn't know if this was a dream or how to explain it if it was real but he didn't care one bit.

"Dad?" croaked Barry. His voice was horse from a week of disuse.

Henry immediately awoke and his face lit up at the sight of his finally-conscious son. "Hey, Slugger. How you feeling?" he asked, as he helped Barry sit up.

Barry didn't reply. His lower lip trembled he began crying as he tightly embraced his father.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Barry. It's okay," soothed Henry. But his voice was thick with emotion too as he stroked his son's hair and held him close.

Neither the father nor the son attempted to end their tearful reunion and they remained as they were for at least half an hour.

"You're real," sobbed Barry, as they broke apart. "You're alive. How…?"

"It was a case of mistaken identity after my ship went down and then I was in the hospital for months with no means of identification," said Henry, regretfully. "I've been looking for you ever since I recovered."

So, that's what Mother meant when she said I'd see Dad soon, thought Barry. Now Barry had no doubt that all he'd seen and experienced was a Christmas miracle that had indeed been real and he thanked his lucky stars for it.

"How did you find me, Dad?" asked Barry.

Henry looked regretful again. "I didn't, son."

Barry was puzzled yet again. If Dad didn't find me, then who did?

But before Barry could ask, the door to the parlor swung open and the West family entered the parlor. Their faces lit up with joy at the sight of Barry sitting up on the sofa, awake and healthy once more.

"Joe? Iris? Wally? You're all here," said Barry, in astonishment.

"Barry!" cried Iris, as she hugged him. "You're awake! You're okay!"

"How're you feeling, kid? You scared us half to death," said Joe.

Wally climbed up onto the sofa and snuggled up with Barry. "We've missed you so much! We thought you'd never wake up in time! You almost missed it."

"I've missed you too," said Barry, as he hugged both the West children. He truly had missed everyone there terribly, so much so that it hurt. "I feel fine, really, I do. What're you all doing here? And what did I almost miss?"

Joe laughed as he ruffled Barry's hair. "We're here because you're family, Barry, and this is your home and Henry's too. And to answer your other question, you almost missed Christmas."

Barry's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "You saved me?" he said. A wave of gratitude washed over him. "Thank you. Wait, I almost missed Christmas? It's Christmas Day?" Did I sleep for an entire week? Good grief!

"It sure is, Slugger," said Henry, smiling. "Want to start opening presents? St. Nick's left you some under the tree."

Barry's face lit up. "Presents? For me?" For a moment, Barry's heart was lifted at the thought of receiving gifts and having a proper, happy Christmas for the first time in years but then his face fell as he realized he had nothing to give his kind-hearted family.

"Barry, what's wrong?" asked Henry, noticing Barry's sadness.

Barry swallowed painfully. "I'm glad to be with you all again and I'm grateful for what you've done, but I can't celebrate Christmas. I don't have any gifts to give to you," he confessed, as tears stung his eyes again. "I have nothing to offer."

"Oh, Slugger…"

Barry was swept into a group hug by his father and the Wests.

"Son, believe me when I say that having you here, safe and sound is the greatest gift we could ever receive," said Henry.

"Really?"

"Really."

Barry's happiness was restored at these words and he smiled at his family before they began their Christmas celebrations with the opening and exchanging of precious gifts. His family. It brought joy beyond measure to Barry's heart to know that he had a family again. Barry was no longer the penniless street kid anymore. Now he was a son and a brother again, and perhaps more was in his future with Iris, for later that day they shared a kiss under the mistletoe.

Barry received several wonderful presents that Christmas. But the ones he and his family treasured most of all were that of each other and hope.

Merry Christmas!

—Brightfire15.