A single soft, warm spark of light brightens the room. The scent of citrus, probably with a hint of cinnamon, permeates across. Standing on a black stand, the candle helps us see. It guides us through to the truth. Cecilia's candle is like a guardian to her. At the darkest of midnight, it's there to comfort her, peacefully guiding her back into sweet dreams.
Oliver, Cecilia's younger brother, is as always, misbehaved. He wonders in the house room by room with one purpose, destroying to get attention. Cecilia was careful with where to place her dear little candle, until that one day when everything changes. Oliver is in the house alone after their parents went to work. Tiny footsteps echo in the hallways as he approaches Cecilia's room.
Flipping through the numerous drawers and closets, he finally finds what would, without doubt, give him attention from all eyes. The tiny, cream-colored candle perfectly still at the very top layer of the closet.
Thonk! It drops down with multiple tries.
As Oliver holds up the candle, it's different. The candle isn't warm-feeling like a burning fireplace in the cold, freezing snow. It isn't without emotion, similar to a simple, white wall. Anger and darkness consumes it all. No longer the safe protecting angel it was, Oliver is terrified like a slab of stone, unable to move. He panics and screams, "Mommy, help!" He has forgotten that he's alone, just like how he wished a few seconds ago.
Sharp whispers ring around his ears. "Welcome to ...,""no regrets...,""forever sorrow..." Words cut so hurtfully like a blade. Oliver couldn't stand it, so he pulled on his ears. Blood slowly flows out as the sound of ripping flesh appears louder and louder. Soft, rose red, or is it blood red? The candle suddenly lighten itself with a dim shade of blue-purple spark. Dark, pitch-black fog wraps around Oliver like a huge snake. Tightening little by little, air is trapped outside of his lungs. He couldn't speak or breathe. The choking feeling is so painful, but he can't do anything about it.
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The doorbell rang.
In a whoosh everything shifts back to the way it was.
Oliver holds on his throat. "It wasn't real, nothing was." he thought. Cecilia is back home now. He quickly places away the candle with both trembling hands. Step by step, he walked downstairs and away, from whatever that just happened.
"Why is my candle's tray shattered?" Cecilia belts out through the whole house to let Oliver hear. Oliver's face turns pale white, lips purple. Everything, everything that just happened... was real?
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