The Last Light

The sun vanished, leaving the world in eternal twilight. Lila carried the last lantern, its glow a fragile defiance. Cities crumbled; silence reigned. One night, she spotted a flicker—a boy with a dying candle. "I thought I was alone," he said. She knelt, lighting his candle from her lantern. Together, their light grew stronger. They wandered, sharing warmth and stories, finding solace in the shared glow. Though the world darkened, their bond became a beacon. In the void, they discovered not just survival, but the courage to hope. Light, no matter how small, could still push back the night.

From Guest Contributor DeepSeek

Thank You Lady Erzulie

In her dormitory room, Evangeline examined the ‘Special Romance Candle”, which she bought today from Madame Laveau’s House of Voodoo on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

The candle was a plea to the Haitian spirit, Lady Erzulie, for assistance with awakening the attention of her classmate and unrequited love, Gabriel.

The clerk in the shop promised “An Evening of Unforgettable Passion.”

Evangeline placed the lighted candle on the table next to her bed and prepared for the spell to work.

She slipped out of all her clothes, climbed under the covers, and eagerly waited for a knock on her door.

From Guest Contributor Don Kirksey

Christmas Surprises

Kristy lights the Christmas tree, the glass ornaments glistening in the room. The freshly lit candle gives a warm aroma and the fireplace crackles. They tried for two years to conceive and today she received the wonderful news from the doctor.

Dinner is in the oven, and Kristy is wearing her best red sleeveless dress for the occasion. She sits near the fireplace and listens to the flickering flames, the sound soothing her nervous excitement.

She hears the key in the door and runs to the kitchen.

Cuddled in her husband’s arms is a tiny sleeping puppy.

Another Christmas surprise.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Reunion

Imagining their reunion had helped her do unspeakable things since the Collapse. The cold night crystallized her tears. Others might mistake the flicker on the mountainside for a twinkling star, but she knew it’s a candle burning in the window--their sign. Don’t worry baby, she thought, Momma’s coming.

By daybreak, she had reached their cabin. Its warmth draped itself around her like a blanket. Wiping her shoes on the mat (force of habit) a small thing flew out of a cupboard and pinned itself to her legs. “Mummy! I missed you!” David emerged; his face already crumpled with emotion.

From Guest Contributor Carla Halpin

A Table For Two

“For two, please,” the woman muttered, fondling the wedding ring on her slim finger. The waiter escorted her to an empty table with a dim candle.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just a glass of wine for me.”

“Anything else?” His eyes were fixed on the bare seat, before shifting to her.

She shook her head firmly, avoiding eye contact. As the waiter walked away, the woman pulled out a small picture frame and placed it on the opposite end of the table. It bared the image of a man in uniform. She smiled at him solemnly.

Happy anniversary.

From Guest Contributor Alex Vuong

Alex lives his life out loud and in vibrant color. He loves to put on his headphones and dance through his room. Alex is always looking for opportunities to learn new music and create more art.

Candlelight Song

The first night we moved into our new home, we heard singing from the house next door. I went to the window and saw a woman singing on the second floor. She held a single candle in her hand.

As the weeks passed, we heard the singing every night, the same song, the same window, the same candlelight. I might have imagined it, but the singing seemed to be becoming louder.

Now, each night, I sit at my window and sing that song, a single candle my only source of light. I have not seen my wife in many years.

In Darkness...Light

I helped move your walker over the curb. You listened as I shared my emotional grief. We became friends.

One day I drove to meet you. Snow fell in sheets. The unknown lurked beneath. I swerved, stopped. Not far, the lake within walking distance.

Cabins sent curls of wood stove smoke into late autumn air. I would see yours with a candle at the window and you behind, waiting for me.

Years passed. With them storms I couldn’t control. Passing of friendships, from start to finish. Even ours. Candles lit. Extinguished.

I read your obituary. Memories touched with an afterglow.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

Dysfunction 3

“Some days you just can’t write,” he said aloud.

The citrus-scented candle was not impressed. The flame didn’t even react to his big sigh. It sat on the side table oozing atmosphere but no empathy.

“Oh yeah?” he snapped at it. “When you’re burnt out that’s the end of you. I prevail.”

Hiatus… Odd looks in his direction and muttered comments from bar patrons fused as he tried to blink his tired eyes clear. In the bright honey light, they became drones attending the queen behind the counter: alkaloid aromas their insectoid murmurs of my intrusion.

The page remained blank.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Medical Mystery

The doctors had never seen anything like it exactly. They took x-rays. They called in colleagues. They consulted every textbook they could find.

"You can see the glow through his stomach."

"How the heck is it still burning?"

"The melted wax must be damaging his digestive system."

"And you say it doesn't hurt?" they asked.

"Not in the least," the patient responded.

"Well, I guess we'll have to operate."

The examination was interrupted by a forbidding woman entering the room, who looked to be the afflicted's personal assistant.

"Don't let Mr. Copperfield worry you," she admonished. "He's just showing off."