Candlewick Curator

April 4, 2011 at 8:11 PM (Fiction, Rambles)

4th April – Entry No.3

A story

A gust of wind howls through the street, sending shivers all around as houses creak in fear of the wind. It is a night like any other. A night of the ordinary for all villagers. All except for one boy. A clueless boy who is now walking up the cobbled path, cloaked in torn brown rags, holding nothing but  a white candle stuck onto a rusty old candelabra.

His face is glum, pale but dirty from a hard day’s work. His body small and frail, but his heart big and warm. Abandoned at birth, Caelan is never mad at how his life turned out. He is kind and generous, always giving but never expecting.

Tonight… he thinks, tonight is strange.

His candlelight flickering away amongst the wind. Flickering strong and bright, acting as his beacon down this mysterious cobbled path. What is it about this path in which he trudges through everyday, he wonders. Nothing is out of place. Everything seems like it did before. But somehow, it’s different. He is different.

A chill runs down his spine as all of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of a shadow. A shadow of a disfigured person in a cloak and hat. And just like that the shadow is gone. He rubs his eyes and shines as much light as he possibly can in the direction of the shadow which glides towards a tiny dark lane. Is his eyes playing tricks on him?

Just as that thought slips his mind, he sees a shadow of a hand appearing on the wall. The shadowy hand beckoning him to follow. He closes his eyes, opens it again and there it is… the hand still beckoning him forward. Chills run down his spine as he feels the hot flame of his candlelight cold against his cheeks.

Curiously, Caelan takes a few steps forward. The shadow now moving with every step he takes. His heart pounding wildly in his chest. He is now halfway through the narrow alleyway when suddenly he feels his whole body go numb. He can’t move. He is stuck. His head protrudes out of an invisible sphere whilst his body from his neck down is still stuck in reality. He moves his head, but all he can see are images swirling around in a deep hole, like in a wising well.

“Hey!” he calls out to the shadowy figure which lured him forward. The shadowy figure, who is walking in this strange parallel universe stops in his tracks and turns to look straight into Caelan’s big brown eyes. Fear seeps through Caelan’s veins. The shadowy figure strides towards Caelan. His cane tapping silently against the invisible floor, in pace with his footing. As he approaches, his face becomes clearer. The fear which was running through Caelan’s veins stops and grips at his heart. The face, somehow familiar but a stranger. For a moment, Caelan thinks that the shadow is him. It is a joke. A prank.  A striking resemblance of his twin staring back at him. But somehow, this twin’s face is older with age and kinder in the eyes.

The man waves his cane, drawing invisible lines. His mouth moving in time to the strokes. Then a whoosh of air escapes Caelan as he jolts forward into the sphere. He is now standing but on nothing. He is now touching and feeling but at nothing. He is now talking but his voice comes out as nothing.

“Hello Caelan. At last we meet. My apologies for having you stuck. Never had many visitors,” the man speaks, but his mouth isn’t moving. How does he know my name? Caelan wonders aloud in his mind.

“I’ve been watching you boy. Ever since your very birth,” answers the man without skipping a beat. Caelan frowns and takes a few vary steps backwards, not bothering to speak as he knows he can’t. The man comes forward, his voice ringing loud and clear once more. “Don’t be afraid my child, for here we communicate with thoughts and not with speech. Come. Let me show you your destiny.”

“What destiny?” Yells Caelan in his mind. “Why have you been watching me?”

The man didn’t reply but instead moves forward and disappears. “Just follow your heart and it will lead you to me.” Echos the mans voice against the invisible walls, startling Caelan.

Confused, Caelan closes his eyes and walks blindly, somehow knowing what to do despite being in the unknown. “Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Caelan opens his eyes and squints against the brightness in the room. The man’s physic is visibly clearer now. He is holding Caelan’s old rusty candelabra in one hand and cane in another. Caelan looks around the room, soaking up the sight as he drinks in the endless number of candles lining up against the invisible walls. Rows and rows of candles, some even resembling stalactites and stalagmites in caves.

“Who are you? What is this place? Where did you get my candle?”

“I thought you would never ask. I, am the candlewick curator,” answers the man with ease, ignoring the other questions all together.

“What’s a candlewick curator?” asks Caelan, bravely walking amongst candles. Some shining brightly, some dim and some unlighted.

“The candles you see here my boy are very special indeed. One drop of candlewick on anyone will magically grant them one wish.”

“So what is it exactly you do? Grant river deep wishes?” asks Caelan with a tiny smirk in his voice, unintentionally mocking.

“Well, a candlewick curator has a job to be the guardian of all candles around the world. All these candles are specially grown for every individual around the world.”

“Grown? How does that work exactly?”

“It simply grows my boy. At birth, a candle manifest on these walls and it grows. The bigger the heart the faster and taller it grows. The more one gives to the world only then will the candle burn on it’s own, telling me that it is time to grant them one wish. It’s pretty simple really. When one is asleep I simply drip a wick of candlewick on their chest and their deepest desires come true. All they will remember when they wake up will be nothing except for a token of remembrance left by the candlewick on their chest.”

Caelan listens, all the while awaiting his friend to jump out in surprise, telling him that it is all a joke. However much he wants to believe that it is merely a joke, deep in his heart he knows its real. He feels at home. Like this is the one thing he has been waiting for since birth. BIRTH “Why have you been looking over me since birth? Why did you bring me here?” asks Caelan, feeling goosebumps emerging on his skin.

“It is your destiny my boy. At the age of 18 this destiny as a Candlewick Curator is rightfully yours and I am to teach you the learnings you would need to carry out your destiny.”

“Why me? I didn’t ask for this. Why did you choose me?”

“I didn’t choose you my boy. It chose you. Candlewick Curator’s aren’t just chosen or made. It is passed down from generation to generation. This candle belongs to you. Ever wondered why it never finishes or puts out itself? It grows with you. With your heart. And it burns a path for you to find me again when the time is right. It listens to your heart. And all along you wanted to know your family, and now you do. A curse that Candlewick Curators have to live with. They can’t grant themselves a wish.” Caelan listens. His breath coming in sharp shallow breaths. His heart throbs in pain. He knows who the shadowy figure is now. He knows whats going to happen next. He wants to close his ears and yell but he is too late as once again the shadowy figure beats him to it.

“Welcome home my long lost son. Welcome home.” With that, Caelan grows limp and sinks down onto the invisible floor. He crouches there, hugging his knees to his chest. His father moves over slowly, only to put a protective arm around his son. His son, which he wanted to hold all these years. His son, which is now crying silently in his arms.

A tear runs down his cheeks but he smiles as he finally got his wish.