A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt7)

The story so far! Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

Their fireball was exactly where they had left it. The dried grass had absorbed some of the fat and had become sticky on the outside once again. It wobbled slightly on the stick.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Cinaed said.

“Yes, come on. We don’t want to be late,” Graunt added.

The fireball was heavy, so Cinaed and Graunt carried it between them, fat covering their hands, as Domnall trotted behind them, chattering in excitement. With their hoods over their faces, they joined the islanders flocking to the sacred beach where it was said that the blessed Saint Columba had taken his first steps on that land. No one took any notice of them. Cinaed wiped his greasy hands on his cloak, worried that the stick might slip from his grasp. He muttered a curse as he realised one plait of hair had been resting against the ball. It too would be greasy. Impatiently he shoved it back, deciding to worry about an excuse the next day if his mother noticed.

A low pipe sounded. The boys grinned at each other and Cinaed and Domnall took their places in a circle, where other hooded figures were holding aloft their own creations. The ball wobbled again, but it seemed to be holding.

Over by the fire, Graunt plunged a stick into the flames. Proudly he carried it over to Cinaed and Domnall. Around them the other spheres were already bursting into flames and starting their procession up the hill.

Domnall was shuffling from foot to foot, hardly able to wait for the moment when they too could join the procession. Graunt held the stick close to the ball and instantly the grease saturated grass began to smoulder. Then with a whoosh, the flames shot into the air. Graunt stepped back in shock, but Cinaed grinned proudly. Their fireball seemed to be burning far brighter than any other. He knew their’s would be the best. The heat scorched his face, and fragments of burning grasses dropped down. Cinaed was too busy staring in wonder to worry about that but Domnall cried out and let go of the stick, taking a sharp step back.

The ball of fat wobbled as Cinaed was suddenly left to bear the load alone,  slipping on the stick. Cinaed froze in shock, not even crying out when the ball tumbled towards his arm, sparks flying. Some struck his grease coated cloak and hair. Still he could do nothing other than stand and stare, as his cloak and hair smouldered. The screams of Domnall and Graunt rang out. There was nothing they could do but wait for him to burn.

To be continued…