this diminutive doll has an outsize collection it wants to show you. "Mistress lets me use the basement," it explains.
you help it brush snow off the pair of weather-beaten cellar doors outside. you walk down the stairs into velvety darkness; it pauses at the top to reclose the doors.
"ah! careful! don't move from there. better give yourself a minute," it says. "you probably can't see them yet."
it's warm but very dark down here. you indeed can't see "them" yet. you can't see much of anything. so you wait.
then: flashes in the dark. blue. or is it faint green? not electronic equipment, not those colors. they have to be:
"fireflies?"
"you got it!"
"in the middle of winter?"
"heh, heh, heh." its voice is full of smug accomplishment. "these think they're on a summer schedule, though! that's why we can't leave the door open! they've just been larvae for months, getting fat on snails from the garden. so many snails!"
as your eyes acclimate, you can see not only glimmers, but the faint distortion of the glimmers by what must be dozens of large glass tanks.
"but then i tweak the day length, and turn up the heat, and they start emerging, and here they are!"
"they're beautiful."
"they are! you know," it confides, "so far, you and Mistress are the only people who have seen them."
you pause before replying to that.
it's going to know anyway. it lives here.
"still just your Mistress," you say.
"oh? but that means… are you staying?"
"i hope so. if she decides to keep me after."
"heh, heh, heh. if you even found this place, she's already decided."
you blush. you hope it can't see you in the dark. you change the subject.
"why fireflies?"
"ah. um. i can't show you here. we need to go back outside."
outside, you stand on the lawn with the diminutive doll.
"watch this," it says, and it looks away from you, and blinks, but with an audible ka-chunk, like a car door.
searing light blazes from its eyes and pierces through the low clouds. it's as if you're suddenly standing next to a pair of arc lamp searchlights. it must be visible for miles.
then it blinks again. ka-chunk. the twin beams fade.
you rub your eyes, dazzled by afterimages.
"ah, geez, so bright! what was that?"
"when i came here, i was afraid of the dark. Mistress told me i didn't need to be any more, because i could make my own light! but later," it confides, "i wanted to see if i was still scared. and fireflies… they make their own light too. but you can't see them without the dark."
"were you? still afraid of the dark, i mean?"
"only a little."
"i wish i was only a little scared of… some other things."
"heh, heh, heh." it takes your hand. "i wish so too! i'd like you to stay. i could use some help finding snails."
"we'll… see about the snails."