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Writing inspired by the following Sunday Writers’ Club prompt:

Lightbringer
Who is the Lightbringer and what’s their story?

Lightbringer Mender of Sweaters

by Loli Owl

“I am the Lightbringer, Flasher of Brights, Herald of the New Day, Extremely Bright and very likely to be squinting. I am the Lightbringer, Enemy of Darkness, Dust Bunnies, Spiders and clutter of all kinds. I flush out the disorganized, shine on things ignored! I am the Lightbringer…!”

Terrance, the Lightbringer, is deep cleaning again. He’s wearing one of those headset lamps preferred by mountain climbers and cyclists and other sports that can be ruined by darkness, pushing a vacuum with one hand and dusting with a long green fluffy appendage in the other. On each hand and ankle, additional lamps are affixed. Terrance is not going to allow anything unseemly to cower in the cover darkness today. Or any day. Slapstick ensues.

I can’t think of any good gags right now for Mr. Lightbringer. He’s wearing some kind of vintage sweatsuit the color of vanilla oat milk and is listening to La Malagueña on big sound cancelling headphones, so something could possibly trip him up and send him and all of his brightness tumbling. Perhaps while he is singing along instead of reciting his mantra? It doesn’t seem likely at the moment. Let’s just observe him quietly for now as he goes about his business of being The Lightbringer, squelcher of darkness and disorder. Watch out for that Rapunzel-haired plant, sir, it’s hanging a bit longer than last week. Oh? Just like that, you’ve finished bringing light to the corners of your apartment? No.Terrace has discovered something else that needs a little light.

There is a sweater lying looped on an old armchair. The base of the sweater is wine-colored, but it has a delightful green and blue plaid intarsia on the front. It is a recent acquisition for Terrance, but certainly not new to this world as an arm was nibbled on by a moth and her sisters, and three small holes have appeared. Apparently, the sweater is a refugee from another closet, as Terrace does not hang his woolens and packs them in a large moth-proof cedar chest for the summer.

Terrance the Lightbringer has put down his cleaning equipment and considers the damage. He is, of course, also wearing a toolbelt equipped with small hooks and needles for textile repair, and indeed, conveniently stashed behind one of the eye-level doors of his floor-to-ceiling bookshelf-storage system lies a color-coded stash of yarns for darning. He has been collecting them for years and has nearly every color in every sort of wearable fiber.

Terrance considers the colors in his stash and removes two wine-colored worsted darning wools. They are wound on cards and numbered by dye lot, although it would most likely be a consuming deep dive on Etsy or eBay to recover these colors once completely used up, as this particular company’s Woolen Rescue Kit™ was only produced between the years of 1956 and 1983. Nevertheless, things were of course made to be used for as long as they are useful, not hidden away.

Terrance cuts two meter-long lengths of wool from each of the cards, then separates the strands. He twists the two colors together and is pleased with the way the light is reflected off the mélange. He then cuts the strands in half and threads one in his darning needle. He pulls the sleeve inside out through the body of the sweater and inspects the damage. As he crushes the moth hole between his fingers, some fiber falls away. Typical moth saliva. Gross. He’ll have to wash the sweater carefully by hand after completing the repair.

First, he stitches around the hole to prevent further unraveling. Then he makes another circle with his needle, a bit further away from the damaged bits, picking up the ridges of the stitches so that his work is invisible. With these two steps finished, Terrance then takes out a miniscule hook and creates a short chain of stitches about as wide as the hole. He threads the end back into his needle and stitches through the other side, and repeats this until the hole is covered by a small grid. Terrance rethreads his needle and fixes the grid of chain stitches to the other side of the hole. The sweater now has a faux-knit patch that is flexible and even stretches with his movement. He repeats this process for the other two holes. He holds his work up to the window to inspect it and is pleased with his handiwork. Sometimes it’s better to have less light shining through something.