Memories of a Night’s Dim Light

creative writing prompt, fiction writing prompt, memoir writing prompt

The light flickered dimly on the dark, round table. She noticed the curve of the three legs, all sprouting from the tables underside. “What hand had carved these legs, “ she thought.  “What purposed did he have for the table when he carved it.”

She sat in the lone chair pushed up to the table and cupped her cold hands around the warmth of the flame.  It flickered, as if in protest, ands she moved her hands away just a bit, as the flame regained its strength.

Outside, the wind whistled in the night.  The quarter moon shone dimly in the window. There were no curtains to block the view of  the moon, a flash of stars, the outline of the Big Dipper.

For a moment, she sat quietly, contemplating her next move.  She had walked up the hill to the house her grandmother had been born in, searching for a place where her thoughts could flow freely and help her decided what to do.

She remembered the old radio she had brought here months before and walked to the shelf and turned it on. The radio hummed to life, a static in the background reminded her of the battery-powered radio she had listened to in bed at night as a child.

“The Geminid meteors will be visible tonight.” The radio announcer boldly spoke into the semi-darkness of the room.  She left the radio on, but returned to the table, remembering a long ago night when her father had come to her room, awakening her at 2 am.

“Come here, honey, I want to show you something.” he had whispered as he stroked her hair.  She had mumbled about being cold and sleepy as she slipped on her   and house coat and followed him outside.” Shivering, as he held her, she waited and waiting until she say a meteor streak by and then another.  That memory crept back into her mind as she lifted the candle and walked toward the door.

She sat the candle on the porch rail and walked into the field of dead December grass. Suddenly a brilliant streak of light flashed across the sky as a whip of wind made the candle’s flame shudder.

A smile crossed her face as another meteor appeared in the western sky. Her answer seemed so clear now, so obvious.  She shivered again, wrapping her arms around her to hold her sweater shut, reached over, gently picked up the candle and walked back inside.

The radio announcer was still humming out the news, but she wasn’t listening. She turned it off, blew out the candle and walked quietly out the door. As she walked back to the home she had lived in her whole life, she could see herself in that little house, reborn, renewed, refreshed. The light from the candle, the light in the sky , it was a sign. Yes, this would be her home.


10 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    arjun bagga said,

    Incredible writing. Awesome! my friend

  2. 3

    jane tims said,

    Hi. A nice, moody piece. I like the early reference to stars coupled with the later meteor shower. I also like her specific, detailed care of the candle light. Jane

  3. 5

    Sandra Bennett said,

    Following the guiding light… ( ;

  4. 6

    Hello BeeBee! I like to be hilarious! I am with friends singing german songs: My black leather jacket! I love memories! I remember me and my family moving to south germany watching a double rainbow as a sign! We were so silly. I feel guilty now, because blogs have to be something else than to tell the world that I’am dancing now and my friends want do choose another song from the „pool“. RUN DMC is it now? No! LOW RIDER! I once choose money when I saw a shooting star. But today I would choose Led Zeppelin! I am 3500 miles away from you. But I will see you one day in the future. When the world and the money and the beauty and the business is gone! Life is nothing – the afterlife is everything! Drunk and choosing new ways seeking what ever, Frank!

    To all the readers.. I don’t care about everything!

  5. 7

    simon7bankss said,

    This is very evocative and sensitive writing. Love it.

  6. 9

    I was drawn right in and you kept my interest to the end. Nice writing.

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