[Excerpt from a novel series idea: Hand of Fate series. I have a flameless candle in my room and last night, after a particularly rotten day, I found myself staring at it to try and get to sleep and this came to mind. Of course, I had to rush out of bed and write this down before I forgot it. Enjoy!]
It was too quiet here. I never noticed the importance of the sound of an occasional car or even the soft whirl of the air conditioner was. Without it, I felt isolated. Alone.
Stupid feelings, really. I knew Crispin was in another room, as was his father. But in the quiet night, I felt as though I was the only person.
Fear began to creep in. I clutched the quilt closer under my chin and pulled my knees into me. Every shadow could have been a Renterran sent to kill Cris or me. Before my shaking could turn into anything more than that,
I finally rested my eyes on the candle Cris had left alight for me.
The candle flickering on the table had a calming effect on me. I remembered my nightlight in my old room in
California. As a kid, I’d been afraid of the dark but I also couldn’t fall asleep if there was any light in the room—funny how kids are. My dad had found a special nightlight that flickered like a candle flame. At first, I had been terrified that the soft, moving light would only make my nightmares more real. After all, shadows were scarier if they moved around you.
I remembered that I used to stare at that nightlight until my eyelids grew too heavy to keep them open. I tried to pretend that every time the bulb flickered, it was speaking to me. Some nights, it even sang lullabies. Staring at that candle, I tried to hear the song it was singing for me.
Staring into the dancing yellow dressed in its thin orange slip, I eventually fell asleep.