Candle

The light flickered and wickered
in the dark. A living flame.
It was a figure, approaching from the darkness of the corridor
who’s head was illumination itself.
A candle light.
Brightening the dark corners of the room
and casting moving shadows everywhere but where it floated.

A more otherworldly creature I had not seen
and yet it was my own fear of the unknown that
made the shadows sinister and the spirit before me more fearful.
In truth it was beautiful to behold.
It floated toward me and stopped but a short distance from my bed,
regarding me with human eyes. Waiting.

“Who and what are you?”

“I am the ghost of Christmas past.”

It wafted and sparked in the air. A candle.
The embodiment of fragile flame,
of gentle warmth and light.
A ghost haunting me this Christmas Eve night.

Old Marley’s warning had come true. I swallowed my fear enough to ask.

“The recent past?”

“Your past!”

A place I had no wish to go! The spirit took my hand with a gentleness and compassion I had forgotten existed.

Copyright Faramond Frie © 2015

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