The Candle's Warning

Those who are wise, believe. -- Michelle Liew

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The town of Black Hollow survived in the dim glow of candlelight, untouched by the hum of modern electricity. The people shunned progress—their world was illuminated only by candlelight, wavering in the twilight breeze. Their fears stemmed from an unwavering belief; three flickers of a candle were more than the whims of a flame— they were an omen, heralding an unexpected visitor. Some feared ghouls; others, rogue wanderers.

There was a history of repeated warnings, but time had dulled their weight.To most, it was an archaic superstition... till the candles flickered in unison one night.

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Unease gripped the town as the ominous flickering of the candles spread from home to home. People clutched their candles--one, two, three. One flicker—it was probably the wind. Two—just the pressure of footfalls jerking the candles. Three—the visitor was coming. People darted about secretively, uttering prayers in inaudible whispers. Older folk recalled a night when he came, and someone vanished.

Then, the knock.

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Young Daniel was the one of the few brave enough—or foolish enough—to peek through his window.

He heard a step. Then another.

The arrival.

A lone figure stood in the centre of the town, silent, eerily still. It hid its inscrutable face behind a hood, but his presence was undeniable.

The glass fogged with Daniel's breath. He held it. The figure remained still.

It lifted a candle. The flame flickered unnaturally, as if it was waiting. It twisted unnaturally, yielding to an unseen force.

Windows shut, almost in unison, as wild panic enveloped the little town.

“It's a test,” one wise woman warned.

“It's a reckoning,” another old man cautioned.

Then the figure stepped forward.

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In a town ruled by candlelight, darkness was something to fear. Black Hollow's mayor, finally facing his fear, stepped outside his home and into the square.

“Who are you? We've heard so much about you…you must tell us who you are!”

The figure answered by lowering his candle. The flames blew out in unison, swallowed by something sinister, unseen. Darkness fell.

People relit their torches, but they never burned. In their place was a single candle burning at the mayor's doorstep.

There was no longer a person, but a message--to believe.

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Some lessons came wrapped in candlelight and shadow, waiting for the wise to heed. Only the foolish forgot the stories of old. From that time on, no one in Black Hollow dismissed the warning—they never dared ignore the flickers. No one dared to open their doors after dark. Village elders said that the past whispered truths, and the visitor only spared those who listened.

Perhaps the flickers were always a warning. Perhaps they still are.

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This work is NOT AI generated or copied from any source. The presence of AI tags is coincidental.