Her eyes couldn’t stop staring the flame. It was dark and silent. The heat of her only company was just enough for that night. A white and old candle was the only light.
A whisper would be enough to kill that little fire. So she had to breathe slowly and control her desire.
One might say she was just a disturbed child, who needed something to calm down and finally rest. But the unknown truth was the unimaginable fact that she was searching for the past.
“What past? She’s a child.” – They thought – “It’s just a phase”. But who would have known that numbers didn’t matter in that case?
There was something different with her flesh and her blood, and the answer would stay in the shadows of the candlelight. And when the morning comes, and she falls asleep, the candle wax is the only thing that remains of that silent night.
A whisper would be enough to kill that little fire. So she had to breathe slowly and control her desire.
One might say she was just a disturbed child, who needed something to calm down and finally rest. But the unknown truth was the unimaginable fact that she was searching for the past.
“What past? She’s a child.” – They thought – “It’s just a phase”. But who would have known that numbers didn’t matter in that case?
There was something different with her flesh and her blood, and the answer would stay in the shadows of the candlelight. And when the morning comes, and she falls asleep, the candle wax is the only thing that remains of that silent night.
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=P
In a flame sometimes I can see myself.
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