The Torch in the Shed

On Saturday evening, Sam went into the garden to fetch a football. Rain tapped on the kitchen windows, and the sky had turned deep blue. At the far end of the garden stood an old wooden shed. Sam pushed its creaky door open and felt along the shelf for the ball. Instead, his hand touched a small metal torch. The torch was cold and heavier than it looked. A star, stamped in pale metallic ink, decorated its handle. Sam clicked the switch. A soft golden beam spilled across the shed, and the torch gave a quiet hum. Something rustled outside. Sam stepped into the garden and saw a hedgehog nosing beneath the hedge. A fox stood farther away, watching from beside the compost bin. Neither animal ran. Sam lowered the torch so its beam shone on the path rather than in their eyes. The hedgehog waddled towards a gap under the fence, while the fox slipped silently into the shadows. Then the golden light landed on a tiny patch of blue flowers beside the shed. Sam had never noticed them before. He crouched to look, careful not to tread on them. When he turned the torch off, the flowers seemed to disappear into the dark. Sam carried the torch back inside and told his family what he had seen. He decided to return in daylight to find out whether more flowers were growing there. The torch might be magic, he thought, but perhaps it had simply helped him notice things he usually hurried past.