The Adventures of Marcus & Nelson: The Fire!

Marcus & Nelson: The Night of the Fire

Marcus Harris was fast asleep, his red curls spread across the pillow, one green eye closed in a dream about pirates. On the bedside table, in his special velvet-lined case, Nelson Haddoc Popeye Harris the XXIV — Marcus’s mischievous blue-green glass eye — was snoring softly too.

Suddenly, a crackle. Then a pop. Then the unmistakable smell of burning toast — except this wasn’t toast. Smoke began to curl under Marcus’s door. The curtains flickered orange.

Nelson’s lid twitched. “Oi!” he said, his voice echoing faintly from his case. “Something’s cooking — and it’s not breakfast!”

He rolled to the edge, hopped out, and bounced straight onto Marcus’s pillow.
“Up, Captain! The ship’s on fire!”

Marcus stirred, then shot upright, blinking his one green eye. “Nelson?” he mumbled sleepily.

“Fire! Flames! Inferno deluxe!” Nelson squeaked, spinning in midair. “Move it, sailor!”

Marcus coughed — the room was thick with smoke now. He rubbed his eye, squinting into the haze. Without Nelson in place, his vision was fuzzy and half-dark, but Nelson floated ahead, glowing faintly blue like a guiding lantern.

“Follow me!” shouted Nelson. “Through the door and down the stairs — mind the toy pirate ship, you left it right in the middle again!”

Marcus stumbled after him, one arm shielding his face, one clutching his Newport County football shirt. The floorboards were hot beneath his feet. The air roared and crackled.

At the bottom of the stairs, a fallen beam blocked the way. Nelson darted around it, thinking fast. “Window, port side! Starboard’s on fire!”

Marcus coughed again. “I can’t see!”

Nelson zipped back, glowing brighter. “Hold on, Captain!” He hovered close to Marcus’s face, lighting the way with his shimmering blue-green glow. “That’s it — now climb!”

With Nelson’s help, Marcus scrambled over the beam and towards the front window. The glass was warm, but the night air beyond looked cool and dark. Nelson hurled himself against the latch. Once, twice — click! — it sprang open.

“Now jump!” Nelson ordered.

Marcus didn’t think twice. He clambered through, landing safely in the garden hedge with a whumph! Seconds later, the firefighters arrived, their sirens wailing.

One of them spotted a small glint beside Marcus. “What’s this?” he said, holding up the soot-covered glass eye.

Marcus gasped. “Nelson!” He took him gently, polishing him on his sleeve. “He saved me.”

Later, wrapped in a blanket, Marcus looked at Nelson’s slightly scorched surface. “You were amazing,” he whispered.

Nelson gave a modest little blink. “Aye, well. A hero’s work is never done. But if you ever leave me on that nightstand again, we’re having words.”

Marcus laughed through the smoke and tears. “Deal.”

Above them, dawn broke through the smoke-stained sky — and Nelson twinkled proudly in the light, the little glass hero who saw the way out when Marcus couldn’t.

By Mark “Hawkeye” Harris