With a flick William Sharpe struck the match against the phosphorus striking pad. Accompanied by the shearing sound of fire coming to life, yellow blossomed from the match head. It faded as quickly as it bloomed. William nurtured it, protecting the fragile flame by cupping his other hand near it while he touched it to a candle wick.

Hesitant at first, the wick took the flame, which grew as large as it was during that initial burst when the match first ignited. William flicked his wrist again, rapidly this time, depriving the flaming match of oxygen. Smoke streamed from the…

Ken Carlson

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