I watch the candle flicker. I like looking at the cheerful flame, burning so happily. It is one of those ordinary candles I bought at the supermarket for power failures such as todays. It’s the last one left and I’ve placed it in the middle of the room in the hope that it will give light to the entire room.
It’s a bright flame, but rather small. Come to think of it, it does look like its trying too hard to live up to my expectations. The small centre table is brightly lit up, but everywhere else in the room, murky shadows lurk. As the little flame sways with the breeze, the shadows take on grotesque forms and I watch them fascinated. For a few moments, I managed to forget my little candle and remain transfixed to the eerie dance that is going on, on the wall. One moment, there are monsters in a devilish dance, the next instant, they have been replaced by the sea and its waves.
As the shadows grow longer, I turn back to look at my lonely light. It’s more than half gone now. The wick is much longer and so is the flame. With tiny sputtering noises, it burn brighter than before. It seems to be burning with its entire might, with all it’s got and is fast getting shorter. The shorter it gets, the brighter gets the flame, almost as if the candle is making a last pitch at banishing the shadows from the corners.
How does it feel to be standing up all alone and fighting, I wonder? To be surrounded by monsters that are advancing even as you fight? When the candle glows brighter, the shadows decrease somewhat, but I think it knows the demons are only biding their time. Consumed by its own passion, the brave little thing fights harder, even when it’s fast nearing its end. The demons are secretly amused, I think, by the little candle’s desperate determination and tease it, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating. The candle just burns on.
There’s less than a quarter left now and I somehow can’t bear the thought of watching the flame die slowly. Leaning forward, I snuff out my own flame and watch the darkness close in...
It’s a bright flame, but rather small. Come to think of it, it does look like its trying too hard to live up to my expectations. The small centre table is brightly lit up, but everywhere else in the room, murky shadows lurk. As the little flame sways with the breeze, the shadows take on grotesque forms and I watch them fascinated. For a few moments, I managed to forget my little candle and remain transfixed to the eerie dance that is going on, on the wall. One moment, there are monsters in a devilish dance, the next instant, they have been replaced by the sea and its waves.
As the shadows grow longer, I turn back to look at my lonely light. It’s more than half gone now. The wick is much longer and so is the flame. With tiny sputtering noises, it burn brighter than before. It seems to be burning with its entire might, with all it’s got and is fast getting shorter. The shorter it gets, the brighter gets the flame, almost as if the candle is making a last pitch at banishing the shadows from the corners.
How does it feel to be standing up all alone and fighting, I wonder? To be surrounded by monsters that are advancing even as you fight? When the candle glows brighter, the shadows decrease somewhat, but I think it knows the demons are only biding their time. Consumed by its own passion, the brave little thing fights harder, even when it’s fast nearing its end. The demons are secretly amused, I think, by the little candle’s desperate determination and tease it, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating. The candle just burns on.
There’s less than a quarter left now and I somehow can’t bear the thought of watching the flame die slowly. Leaning forward, I snuff out my own flame and watch the darkness close in...
