The man with the giant hands had walked into the small run down village hungry and in need of a bath. Sweating from the heat, his clothes were ripped and weathered from his long journey south. With him he carried a large heavy rucksack, digging deep into his shoulders. His long brown hair and beard was unkempt and greasy, his face hidden from the shadow of his hat.

            The children had stopped playing and stared in awe at the man, his hands three times the normal size, blackened and ingrained. He stopped, removed his hat and wiped his brow as the children ran indoors. Looking down at his palm he thought how he must have appeared to the children. Although his hands had brought him much work, they had gained him no friends. He placed his hat back on his head, pulled down its peak and carried on walking.

A tethered donkey outside a stable panicked and pulled at the rope as he walked past. Two men poked their heads around the corner of the stable door, then looked at each other in disbelief. No stranger had walked through their village in more than three years. One of the men picked up a pitchfork, while the other pulled his shotgun from out of his horses' saddle.

They proceeded to follow the stranger.

When they found themselves close enough, the taller of the two men pointed his gun nervously.

'Turn around slowly, w'¦we don't want any trouble.'

The stranger stopped in his tracks and did as he was told. The two men gulped and looked at each other as they caught site of his hands; oversized thumbs tucked under the straps of his rucksack. Pondering at the two men, he replied casually.

'I don't be wishin' any harm.' he sighed, 'I would just like somewhere to rest for the night. Eat some of your good food I can smell. Bath and wash my clothes.'

The smaller of the two men looked at his friend in disbelief before answering. 'What'¦' he paused, 'What do you have in return?'

'I have no money,' replied the stranger, 'But I can give you this.' he took his rucksack off his shoulders and opened it, pulling out a lump of coal.

'Coal?' said the taller man frowning, 'It's midsummer. What use would we have for coal?'

The man didn't answer. He simply sighed once more, then looked down at his oversized hand holding the lump of coal. Closing his hand tightly, he overlapped his other hand, moving his fingers, adding as much pressure as he could. The two men looked at each other again, then shifted a little closer to the stranger, curious of what he was doing.

After a minute or so had passed the stranger opened his hand to reveal a diamond the size of their fists. It caught the sunlight, hypnotising the two men.

'One diamond for a night in your barn. A bath, meal and my clothes cleaned.' he threw the diamond towards them, the taller of the two men catching it, 'Then I will be on my way.'

The men looked at each other in disbelief, 'The Barn is yours. I will bring you a bathtub.' said the taller man holding the diamond up to the sunlight.

The smaller man added, 'I'm sure my wife will be more than welcome to prepare you some food. Your clothes will be as good as new.'

It was evening, and the stranger had finished washing in the rusty bathtub. He had shaved off his beard, pondering at his face in a shard of mirror. He hadn't seen his self in a while; strong jaw line, high cheekbones and welcoming eyes. The smaller man had left him his clean and repaired clothes. Under the flickering gaslight, he had eaten alone amongst the horses in the stable. He found himself talking to them when they became restless. Placing his hat over his face, he drifting to sleep.

When morning came he stretched out his arms, yawned and flexed his large hands. His fingers cracked.

He could hear the children playing outside on the dusty track. This time he was careful not to startle them. Standing in the entrance of the barn he thought back to when he was a child himself. Only he had missed out on the bond of friendship. No games were played, instead he was taunted and bullied by the other children in his village.

Even his parents had disowned him. When he had reached twelve years of age he had found himself wandering, begging on the streets where he was eventually picked up by a circus. This time he was paid to be humiliated in their freak show. He became very close to the circus' Magician, who he had learned his tricks from. The old man was the only person that had treated him kindly and when he died, he ran away from the circus.

Eventually at eighteen he found himself working down in the coalmines, where his large hands were put to good use. For fifteen long years he had worked, rarely seeing the daylight. His hands becoming as tough as leather. When he had the chance he would spend as long as he could outside, longing to travel the world. After hundreds of young men had lost their lives during a cave in, the mine was closed. It was then that he began his travels, deciding to take the very last sack of coal with him.

'What's a matter with your hands?' asked one of the children. The stranger snapped out of his reflection on the past.

The child was a girl of about seven. Standing next to her was her little brother, roughly two years younger.

He smiled down at her. 'Nothing is wrong with them.'

'They look weird' replied the little girl.

'Weird is okay.' he continued to smile, placing his hat on his head, 'It makes me different from everyone else.'

'We had a dog once. Daddy put him down because he was born with big weird ears.'

'That's a sad story. He may have grown to use those ears all the more better than the other dogs.' He held out a hand and reached behind the girl's ear. Her younger brother flinched and hid behind her thinking the strange man was going to grab hold of him. 'Sometimes we're born with a gift. It shouldn't be taken away from us, even if we may look strange at first.' he pulled his hand away from her ear to reveal a piece of candy. The children's eyes lit up and the stranger continued to break it in half, giving a piece to every child.

Before long the rest of the children in the village had gathered round, as the stranger performed some more simple tricks. Eventually he ended by pulling out two lumps of coal. He closed one hand and squeezed very tightly as he had done the night before. Opening his hand he held out the diamond and the coal.

The children looked at the diamond. It was beautiful, but the look on their faces was exactly the same as any of the other tricks. Not a single child asked for the diamond.

'Why do you carry coal?' Asked one of the children.

'Because it's the last there is round here. All the rest has been turned into diamonds. It's the only way I have been able to pay my way. Diamonds are all people want.'

'But coal is more important. It can keep us warm through the winter. What can a diamond do for us?'

The stranger was taken back by the child's statement, saying exactly what he thought, 'Especially now they have no value at all.'

He handed a piece of coal to each of the children. 'Keep what I have given you safe. It's a gift.'

'When are you leaving?' asked one of the children.

'As soon as I have purchased a horse.'

'I have a donkey you can buy off me.' said another child.

'The timid one? The one I scared yesterday upon my arrival?'

'Yeah, Donald.' the children giggled, 'But he's ok once he gets to know you. We were scared of you too Mister, but we're not now.'

'And what would be the price of Donald?' asked the stranger.

'A story!' replied the boy without hesitation.

'More magic candy!' chirped another.

The stranger couldn't help but smile. So, before he left, he told them the most important story of all.

The day after the stranger had rode out of the village on Donald, the nearby forest caught fire in the heat. All the trees were burnt to ash. There was now no firewood that the villagers relied on for winter. There was certainly no coal.

Before long, the cold winter set in.

The villagers found themselves pulling down their sheds for wood to burn and huddled together in their homes in layers of bearskins and thick woollen jumpers. But the wood soon ran out. The little girl that had spoke first to the stranger had caught hypothermia and her parents had began to loose all hope. Her father had wished he'd accepted the coal off the stranger all those months back instead of its alter ego. What use was a diamond now in the coldest of winters? he thought.

'You have to tell a story Daddy.' said his little boy, as he looked up from under the bearskin.

'A story? I'm not a storyteller son.'

'But you have to. All of you have to, to make the coal keep us warm.'

'The coal?' interrupted his Mother, 'We don't have any coal. If we had, your father would have used some by now to help make your sister better.'

'But we do. All of us have a piece each. The man with the big hands gave it to us. Look.' the child reached into his pocket and pulled out his very own piece of coal he'd kept to himself the whole time.

'One piece to each child isn't enough to warm the whole village son.'

'Yes it is. It's magic coal. Tell a story Daddy. Please. The man said that is all we need to make the coal keep us warm.'

The Man looked at his wife and then at his daughter lying in her arms. 'I'll tell you how I met your mother.' he said as he continued. As the story progressed they found themselves having to shed the bare skin and before they knew it, they were as warm as they were in midsummer. The little boy still held the coal. Warm and sooty in his hands.

The next day, his daughter awoke and began to make a full recovery. All the children in the village had told their parents the same story the stranger had told them. His final, most important story had saved the village.

The man with giant hands arrived in the 'City of No Children' the following Summer. He had travelled many miles on the back of Donald, and along the way had gathered many more stories. His rucksack was all but empty; inside were the last two lumps of coal. One for the last village he would visit.

Upon entering the Inn he was immediately greeted by the Innkeeper, who looked him up and down, proceeding to ask, 'Can I help you sir?'

'Yes, I would like a room and meal for the night. Also my donkey fed and placed in your stable.' he answered.

'Of course sir. That will be three gold pieces.'

'I'm afraid I don't have any gold. Only this lump of coal.' The stranger held out his hand as the Innkeeper recoiled, 'One of the last pieces you will find.'

'We have no use for coal here sir, especially at this time of year'¦' the man smirked, 'Even if one lump was of use.'

The stranger sighed, closed one hand and after a minute opened it again to reveal yet another diamond. He dropped it into the Innkeeper's hands.

His face lit up, 'You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to sir.'

'Thank you, but one night is enough.'

Donald and the man with the giant hands left the next morning, having told no stories or performed any tricks. There were no children in the 'City of No Children', and when the snow fell the hardest it had done in a hundred years, everyone in the town died. He kept the last lump of coal to himself and although Donald never asked for a story, it warmed his heart all the same when the cold set in.

Copyright © James Johnson 2006