Once upon a time, two brothers named Flick and Flack lived with Father Flame and Mother Flame in the fireplace they called home. Flick was always dressed in yellow, and Flack was always dressed in orange, and they loved to be together almost as much as they loved to fight. Brothers can be that way sometimes, though nobody knows why; it’s just so.
They were a clever little pair. Flick liked to think that he shown brighter than his brother. Flack, though younger, doubted that this was true. “I can be as tall and thin as a golden thread and light up to the ceiling,” said Flick to his brother, who answered in reply, “But I can be round and pretty like an autumn leaf, and light up the far corners of any room.” And so they tried their best to outshine each other, but soon grew frustrated because they couldn’t grow as high or as round as they really and truly wanted to be.
“Let’s play up on the roof,” said Flick, jumping smartly over the black backs of the coals. “Catch me if you can!” Flack replied, “Let’s—but let’s not go further than Father or Mother can go.” And with that, the flames began to race up the chimney.
Now at this moment, the North Wind was passing by, and when he heard the voices of the little flames, he called down, “Hey there, my fine little fellows! Hold onto my long arm, and I will help you up onto the roof, where you will soon see the big, wide world.”
Flick and Flack grinned upon hearing such a friendly, gay voice, and held on tightly to the North Wind’s chilly arm who, with a pull and a puff, hauled them up and out onto the edge of the chimney. And before the flames could thank him, the North Wind was gone in a whoosh!
Flick looked up at the snow falling from above and Flack looked down onto the fields below, so fresh and white and pretty. “Flick called out to his brother, saying “Look at me dancing as fast as the wind! Watch!” To which Flack replied, “I can dance faster, so fast that you can never catch me! Try!” And the two flames danced merrily, chasing one another about the chimney top, trying to be the fastest and brightest that they could be.
They grew so excited that their dancing became ever faster until the chimney looked as though it were really on fire. And across the way, in a tiny house, lived a little old lady who had been watching their play, and she grew alarmed at their flashes and flickers, and she finally called the fire department to come and put out the fire.
The brothers didn’t pay attention to the siren of the fire engine, and they kept on dancing and being wild. So they were ever so surprised when their fun began to end. WHOOSH—something was hitting the chimney top. “Oh no!” said Flick, “we’ll soon be put out!” “Quick!” said his brother, “jump down the chimney! Jump!” But just before they could jump, a cold wet splash of water caught the tips of their toes, and you could hear the water sizzling at their feet. This made Flick and Flack jump quickly back down into the chimney and oh! it was good to finally reach the friendly coals at the bottom.
And there was Mother Flame holding out her arms to them both, and Father Flame, saying, “Well, you two have had an adventure, haven’t you? Were you scared?”
“We were,” said Flick. But Flack didn’t like that; he didn’t want his brother saying so, even if it were true. So he countered his brother, and said, “We were only afraid that we’d lose the chase. That’s all,” and he burned suddenly a little brighter.
Father Flame chuckled to himself, but said aloud, “But little flames, in being so careless to win the chase, you both very nearly lost the race. Don’t you see, you silly things? Stop trying to outshine one another all the time!”
Mother Flame tucked her two boys into bed, and gave them each two kisses, dimming the room as she left. And with that, our two little flames went out like a light, happy to be home, happy to have lost, happy to be, in the end, two happy little flames who could – any time they wanted to, really – shine all the way up to the ceiling and back again, or fill every corner with their round, glowing light.
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