A Candle

• Vela Canicula, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2022

A fire. A careless mistake. A life up in flames.

I have never thought of myself as special. I’ve always been in the background, but sometimes I quite like it. Other times I don’t. Like now. Since he left, things have been tough. I hope he regrets the day he left his baby. My baby.

I light another candle. It fills me with the warmth friends give when they visit. Or I think so. I’ve never had many friends. It doesn’t matter. The scent of warm apple pie wafted around the house, a luxury food I can only dream of. It hid the fact my house was filthy. I spot, once again, the electricity bill, among the other papers strewn along the floor. It won’t be long until I lose the house.

Trodding carefully, I opened the door to the song of a lullaby; my baby’s soft snores in the background. I remember my job interview, all too late. 5 minutes was all I had. All it took. No longer careful, rushing around the house, I pushed and searched through the piles of paper, grabbing my keys. Finally, my lucky break. I was certain to be hired, and I would finally rid the weights on my shoulders. I wouldn’t be long; just a formality and I was sure to be back in no time.

As I drove home newly employed, I could finally see myself in a better place. Hope. It filled me up, fuelling my excitement. I felt… ecstatic. It was a first for me. And I liked it. It wasn’t long before burning smoke filled me instead. Coughing, I prayed prosperity to wherever it was. I must’ve known the poor neighbour, with the fiery reds blazing against the dark blue of the night so close to my home. That was until it clicked. I hadn’t blown out the candle. There was a chance I could’ve knocked it. No. I definitely knocked it.

I felt myself crumble inside, a cloud of dread forming in my mind, realisation to the fire tearing apart my home. Realisation to my baby still sleeping peacefully in her crib.