Read: Candle
One night I laid in my bed unable to sleep, tossing and turning, entangling myself in my covers. Frustrated I listened to the rain batter the window sills, "pat, pat, knock". "Knock?" I pondered to myself, this is most odd. "Knock, knock!" There it is again! With a timid creek my door came ajar and as if a head peaked in to my room!
Terribly frightened I watched as the strager approached and greeted me with a "Hello, pardon me". "I noticed you weren't sleeping yet, I thought I'd keep you company" he continued, walking meekly to my bedside. "Begone, for I do not know you or how you got in!" I tried to shout but my covardly voice betrayed me, leaving me silent.
He rummaged throught his pockets; 'twas clear he was searching for something. Frozen in place, I was unable to resist as he pulled out a stout candle and placed it on my forehead. What wicked witchcraft is this? Am I to be gutted or devoured?! Pray tell, not both!
Now he reached for his sock and dug through it too. You'd think there'd be less digging to do in a sock, much less in one still worn on his foot. With a triumph "Ha!" he produced a small box; in the darkness I at first didn't see clear. But a familiar "tshk" and a miniscule spark revealed: it was matches, of course. The first match took no light. "Tshk" again, but to no avail. "Tshk, tshk" again, at least a seven times more. The threadful anticipation nearly threw me insane and cold globs of sweat pearled upon my forehead nudging the candle to a slide. "Shoot!" he exclamed, dropped his matches on the floor, and rushed to adjust the candle.
Eventually he did succeed and brought the light to my face. "Sorry about that" he said, and maybe he blushed; it was still too dim to see. Then suddently a light, painfully bright, all but blinded me as the candle lit up. How it heated my face! It felt as though it was burning inside my head. Then a new sensation I had never felt before, and truly could have done without, like a small sweaty hand poking around in my brain. Good lord, what an awful feeling!
"I spy, with my little eye..." he mumbled then exclaimed with much glee; "bell-bottom pants and platform shoes too!". "Oh no, that sure is neon" he giggled as memories from my youth poured back to me like rain. "It was the trend back then!" I tried to defend my fashion choices, deeply mortified now after years. "Oh! Oh! Did you really reply 'You too!' to the waiter who wished you enjoy your meal?" he continued and covered his smile; "that is so awkward! Hehee!". The more I suffered at the recollection of my past faux pas, the more excited he seemed but his tone wasn't malicious in the least.
At one point he search his person again, this time for a small spoon. Confused and still paralysed, I lied as he began... to scrape my face with the cold utensil?! I couldn't see what he gathered but smiling he lifted the now heavy spoon to his lips and greedily bit into it, whatever it was.
---
With a gasp I sat up from my bed, in the process flinging my pillow to the floor. Nervously panting I gazed around. The sun was rising and he was nowhere to be seen. Had it been a mere nightmare after all? I sighed in relief and put on my slippers. I walked to my dresser and in the mirror above, I saw a red round impression, right above by brows.
Storm Ruffie
