After his shift had ended and he had returned home, The Lamplighter set to making his plans. He couldn't possibly dream of lighting all the lanterns himself. There was simply no way. But, if he were to have one assistant, working the other streets at the same time...

But no, he sighed. The Stranger had told him he must do it alone.

“How am I to do the impossible, let alone at my age?” He scowled, smacking his hand down on the cracked leather cover of his journal.

He ran through possibilities, but none seemed remotely doable. One old, arthritic man, all by his lonesome? There wasn't a single way to light the lamps that way. Especially not with the persistent cold wind and mist. Even if he were to light them all, there was no assurance they would stay ablaze.

“Tell me, Lord. What am I to do? What can I do?” He groaned, hands clasped in front of his face. He listened, but no instructions came.

He expected as much, of course. He couldn't expect The Almighty to just present an obvious or easy answer. He had to show he was serious about it.

The Lamplighter pulled a map out of a drawer in his desk. He hadn't needed one for many, many years, but he was glad he kept one. He had used most of the others as starters for his hearth.

Taking a pencil, he began charting out different courses he could take on his nightly lighting. Not one of them worked or was more efficient than his usual path. He figured as much. A couple decades of walking the streets every night had let him experiment and find the best way to work.

The Lamplighter fell into his bed after having stayed up far later than he intended (or even should have) trying to come up with alternate routes, or some scrap of a plan that might work.

He went to sleep feeling rather unaccomplished.

The Lamplighter woke to the sound of his stomach growling, and he realized with a twinge of amusement–or was it just hunger?–that he hadn't taken the time to make supper last night. He had been far too concerned with his plans for the next evening's work.

As he rose, he coughed. This wasn't unusual, though it had become far more common than he felt it should be. Rather, he knew it was.

“I'm not well, Darling,” He said to the picture above his bed. “Not well at all. And I fear I won't be getting better.”

After having a steaming cup of coffee and a large breakfast, The Lamplighter put his dishes in the sink. Instead of setting to scrubbing them, he started putting on his boots and coat.

“I promise I'll do them when I come home,” He told the picture as he grabbed his cap off its hook and stuffed it onto his head. He stared for a moment longer, then abruptly stepped out the door and shut it firmly. He frowned, feeling something was missing.

He reopened the door and leaned back into the room, grabbing his lighting stick from where it leaned against the wall. He flashed an apologetic look at Darling. “Sorry, m'dear. Memory isn't what it used t'be.” He tapped his temple, then closed the door once more.

The evening chimes were busy tolling out, signaling the start of the lantern lighting. And The Lamplighter was running late, on tonight, of all nights to be late.

He staggered to the first lamp and set to starting the fire in the wick of his rod, his movements rushed and sloppy. He nearly caught his glove on fire. Twice, in fact.

In a few minutes he managed to start work, moving as fast as he could will his worn body to.

“A thousand curses,” He grunted, trotting to the next post. “There's no way. Simply no way.”

A young boy's chuckle came from overhead. The Lamplighter didn't need to look to see it was that...floating child from last night.

“Not tonight, I'm afraid. I don't have the time.” He lifted his head slightly to give the boy a pleading look. “I simply don't have the time!”

The wild-haired boy was hovering slowly by, posed as though lying on his stomach with his chin resting in his palms. “Don't have the time for what? Whatever are you rushing for?”

His smile told The Lamplighter he very well knew.

“A thousand curses, indeed! And this boy is at least half of them,” The old man said bitterly. He cast a glance behind him, and his shoulders dropped. Two of the lanterns he had already lit had been blown out already.

“There's simply no way,” He breathed.

He lifted his head to stare into the dark heavens above.

“Please. Please give me something. I just want to feel the sun on this ancient skin of mine...one last time.” He opened his palms in resignation.

“Very well,” A familiar voice spoke from behind.

The Lamplighter turned to see The Stranger leaning against one of the lamp posts that hosted an already-extinguished flame. The Stranger pointed at it, and the fire sprang back to life.

“He has new rules. You may choose one assistant. But you must complete your task tonight. This is your last chance, and you have scarce time for planning.” The Stranger crossed his arms, seemingly waiting for a response.

The Lamplighter's mouth moved without making a sound for a few moments, then only managing to squawk out an awkward thanks.

“But...why?” The Lamplighter asked. “Why must I do it myself? Why with only one soul t'help me?”

The Stranger's dark eyes studied him for a moment before he replied.

“Because you chose the road less traveled. If you had wanted your last works to be easy, why choose this narrow path?” The Stranger tipped his head. The Lamplighter remained silent, considering.

“But trust me,” The Stranger's white smile appeared. “It'll be beautiful. Worth the wait, and worth the work. But you have to work fast and smart. And I'd recommend starting now.”

The Lamplighter stole a look at the clock tower, seeing he had already lost at least half an hour. Time was indeed wasting.

He turned back to The Stranger, why, he wasn't sure. Perhaps to thank him, perhaps to ask another question. But the dark figure was gone.

The Lamplighter wheeled to see the flying child above.

“Did you see where he went?” He queried. The boy threw his arms up in a shrug.

“Figures. Best to move on, I s'pose. Now, how to find an assistant at this hour. And at this short notice!” The Lamplighter exclaimed, rubbing his rough, poorly-shaven chin. He looked around. Not a soul was to be seen walking the streets tonight. Not even the baker.

Odd, he thought. Surely she would be coming out from the bakery at this moment, keen to be heading home?

As he thought about it, The Lamplighter realized that the lights in all of the houses and businesses along this street had gone dark already.

“Odd, indeed,” He mumbled, hoisting his lighting stick on his shoulder. “Not a soul to be seen, and not a soul near to help.”

As he felt his stomach sink, The Lamplighter silently corrected himself. There was one soul near, though their helpfulness was doubtful.

“Boy,” The Lamplighter began, facing him with a hand on his hip. “I know you don't like me. You made that clear. Why, you even stated your hate for these lovely lanterns! But now I need yer help. I know you like the night, and sleep, and I'm supposing you like dreams. But I need you to help me wake up this town one last time.”

The boy's face screwed up. “You think I'd help you wake them all from their dreaming? Never!” He twisted about, turning his back towards The Lamplighter.

The Lamplighter put his hands out. “What am I to do, then? I don't have much time left, boy. I only have one chance left to see the sun. I feel it in my bones. It feels too much like I've been the only one moving forward, and I fear I've wasted my time.” His frown deepened. “In fact, if I fail my last night...if I don't manage to light each of these lanterns and bring the morning, I will have wasted my time. I'll have left nothing to this world but a vague memory.”

The boy's shoulders dropped, and he slowly drifted down until his feet were mere inches above the cobblestone.

“A vague memory,” The boy echoed. “Yes. I can see why you wouldn't want that to be your legacy. Why you would want to leave something more behind.”

He breathed for a moment, staring towards the clock tower.

The Lamplighter watched intently, waiting. For what, he wasn't sure.

The boy drew his hands into fists and inhaled deeply.

“I'll help you. But I have a couple of requests.”

The Lamplighter nodded solemnly.

The boy turned around, his eyes brimming with tears.

“You must call me by my name. You must take my hand when all is said and done. And when you go to see Darling, you can't forget me.”

The Lamplighter went rigid, but managed to nod once again. He wasn't sure what else to say or do, nor did he know what the boy meant, exactly.

What is his name? And how could he know?

But all the same, The Lamplighter agreed to the terms.