Carlos was walking home along a tree-lined road. Darkness is already falling. Soon, the only light would come from the street lamps. Apart from Carlos, the road was empty... or so he thought. Suddenly, he heard a strange, shrill voice coming from the darkness behind the trees.

“Boy! Where are you rushing off to this evening?” a voice cackled.

Carlos spun around to find a small shape seemingly materializing in front of him. Squinting, he lit his small lamp and the old hag’s face jumped out at him.

“Tell me, boy,” she questioned.

He fell back in fright, and shook the black dust on the road off his hands as he got up.

“T-to h-home,” Carlos stammered, his eyes fixed upon the lady’s unkempt, green hair and toothless grin. He shook his head and composed himself with a pejorative smile.

“Why do you ask, my dear lady,” he politely asked.

“You see Carlos, you should not hurry home.”

“But how did you-”

“You should not hurry home!”

The hag gave him another look, through which he could see the madness she was inflicted with. She then disappeared into the dark. Carlos was left thinking. He thought of that morning, when his mother and father had wished him a good journey and sent him to sell the gunpowder. He was deep in thought when it shook him. What if my parents are in danger?

It was this that jolted him back to reality. He flung aside his lamp and cast himself into the dark, damp forest, which bordered the road. His only thoughts were of reaching home through a shortcut he had known of for a long time. He thought again of his father.

“Son, this is the quickest way to the village.”

“Then why don’t we ever use it?” his younger self had asked.

“It is for emergencies. The dangers that lie within are to be avoided if possible.”

This was most definitely an emergency, for family was the biggest pride and concern a person could have. He pulled out his knife and chopped through the vegetation, brushing away the spiders that landed on his back from their webs. After an eternity, he saw the small blaze of fire flickering in the distance. Assuming it to be a lamp, he ran after it. As he proceeded, the smell of smoke and sounds of sirens dazed him.

What could have happened? Could it have been… No. It couldn’t have. Maybe one of the neighbors. Yes.

Carlos emerged on the road opposite to his house and stared in horror at the ‘red flower’ as it ate its way through each precious piece of wood, which had joined to serve as his home for the last seventeen years. He looked around for his parents. He had hoped to find them near the house, and indeed he did. They looked peaceful where they lay, their eyes closed and breath still.

Carlos closed his eyes.

How did this happen?

A sudden vision crossed his head. The gunpowder, the black dust on the road. The buyer complaining that the gunpowder was less than agreed upon. Could there have been a hole in the bag? If so, when he cast his lamp aside…

Carlos sat back, weeping.

If only there hadn’t been a hole…