The Pages of Matthew Hart

Once upon a time, at the far end of a beautiful garden, there lived a kind giant and his wife, happily and in peace. Years before, the giant had, by chance, rescued a gentle fairy. In return, the fairy had given him a golden chest and told him that one day he would have seven children.

The gentle fairy told him that each time one of his children was born, he could open the chest and draw out a precious treasure meant for that child—and give it to them.

Years passed. The giant, faithfully following the fairy’s words, became the father of six children and the owner of six treasures, which made him the richest and most powerful man in the world. He waited impatiently for the seventh child—still in its mother’s womb—to come into the world, so he could at last learn the secret of the seventh treasure.

The giant’s first child was born with a large birthmark on his face. When the giant, with the child in his arms, reached into the chest, he drew out a purse of money—which, he later learned, would never empty of coins.

The second child was a green-eyed girl, and her treasure was a watering can the same color as her eyes. Before long, the giant’s gardens—watered by that very can—grew ever green and ever fresh.

The next children were twins: the elder a lively girl, the younger a boy whose death was feared. Though the twins’ treasure—a mirror—kept the boy alive, it carried one great trouble: whenever one of them looked into the mirror, the other fell asleep. And so the two could never truly see one another.

The boy always wished he could see his sister awake. But she was content with the way things were and showed no interest in her other half.

The fifth child was a brave boy, and his treasure was a great copper bell. With a single ring of that bell, no enemy could harm them or claim victory over them.

The sixth child was a small girl, and her treasure was a bird with a voice of endless beauty. People came from distant lands just to hear it sing.

When the seventh child was born, the giant joyfully took it in his arms and went to the chest. At first, he felt as though he were pulling out a wooden handle—and he was astonished. When he drew the gift fully out, he saw that at the end of that wooden staff waited a hungry fire.

The giant dropped the burning torch and tried to put out the flames, but it was no use. The fire devoured everything, and they could find nothing that could tame that maddened flame.

The hungry fire swallowed the purse of money first, then the green watering can. As it passed the mirror, it burned its frame, and the mirror fell to the ground and shattered. The giant looked in horror at the younger twin—but it seemed no harm had come to him.

The fire smothered the bell’s ring and turned the bird to ash. At last, only when it had burned the entire garden and everything in it, did the fire grow still and crawl beneath the ashes.

The giant saw his whole world ending before his eyes—until his eldest daughter cried out:

“Father! Look! There’s a fairy!”

Before the giant could even raise his head, he saw the fairy before him.

The fairy said angrily: “Why didn’t you give the torch to the boy? If you had, none of this would have happened.”

The giant shook his head from side to side and moaned under his breath. The gentle fairy, taking pity on him, said:

“Though you have lost everything, there is still a way to bring it all back.”

The giant, heartened by these words, clung to the hem of her dress and said: “How is it possible? What about my child? Can I have my seventh child back too?”

The fairy smiled and said: “Your seventh child is still alive. And the way to restore your treasures is to bring him back. One of your children must go outside the garden at night, when the moon is rising, and search for him—and find him before sunrise.”

From the next day onward, the children went out one by one in search of the seventh. But each one who went either never returned, or came back with only a shadow.

And the seventh, every night, walked behind his brothers and sisters and called to them—but they could not hear his voice.