“The Black Candle”
Darkness stirs all my earthly fears this night, and the shadows of hell seem to rise out from that eternal abyss that harnesses them. The storm out side rages so that the ticking of my clock is deafened by the puttering of rain and the roaring of thunder. And here I lie curled in my bed, not pretending to be the brave soul I am in public, but like a child afraid of the darkness around him. There is something about tonight that I do not wish to face on my own, but it is a fact that I am so, alone. There’s No one around tonight to talk me through the perils of thunder and abstractions of dark.
It is peculiar, I think to myself, for the common gentlemen to be afraid of the mysteriousness of a sheet of black and not of the adventures down some cut throat alleyway. And I have been down many, some grim enough that Jack the Ripper would think to call one of them “home”. The dark. There is no way to explain its mysteriousness, because those who can are now members of the grave.
They are dead. They live in an eternal darkness, one for which there is no sunrise to wake them up to the dawn. And the dead do not concern themselves of the living. Ha! Did I not just have this conversation the other day among my friends? I believe I did. We had discussed the morbid subject of death and what happens in the great beyond. Do the spirits of the dead really come back? Why would they wish to do so? There is nothing left for them here. Why would one who is on another side of consciousness so desire to stay behind merely to scare the trousers off of some poor devil? Have they nothing better to do in death?
“Ghosts belong in the minds of children”, I so boldly said, “and as a gentleman, I do not believe in ghosts.”
That is when Alfred, a good drinking buddy of mine, made a proposal to me. He had recently come into possession of a rather strange candle, black in color and carved into the shape of a bone. He told we whenever he lit the thing at night, odd things would happen he would see things move around him, hear voices of persons who were not present. Objects would move, and he said he would even see the black hooded figure of a man. His deal was if I would take possession of it for one night, tonight in fact, and make it through it without seeing anything, then we would pay me a sum of $50. The deal seemed sweet at the time and I accepted.
But now I am weary. I had lit the figure of wax not an hour ago and have proceeded to bed, as nothing happened. No sooner had I blown out the flame than did this storm appeared out of nowhere. I remember the sky before the sun vanished and there was not a cloud in it. Or was there? I do not remember. I feel as if I’m going mad!
From the sanctum of my bedroom I hear something stir from downstairs. It sounds like cat clawing at a piece of cloth, a tearing sound of sorts. But I do not own a cat nor any animal for that matter. A great roar of thunder fills the heavy air with an upmost sinister sensation. What was that sound? Ghosts? Nonsense! There are no such things as ghosts! It must be the rain outside making more noise. But the rain doesn’t sound like cloth ripping. No, it makes a splashing kind of sound
Now I hear more noises coming from the walls! Yes I am sure its coming from the very inside of my walls. The sound of something sliding across the wooden boards and frames! Lightning brightens up my room and cast ominous shadows around the floor. I can see the walls in that split second of light, but there is nothing in the room nor on my bedroom wall that could be generating the noise.
I feel more uneasy by the second and the darkness only seems to get heavier as the seconds turn into minutes. I feel my skin begin to crawl as if retreating from the sensations that have been going on around me tonight. The storm rages with all the fury the heavens can muster and I am caught up in it. But now comes the most powerful emotion I have ever felt. I feel the eyes of some unseen devil gazing upon me, and I fear to much to sit up and look at what could be in my room right at this very moment. But I must. It is the only way to convince myself there is nothing here to fear but my own imagination. I sit up in my bed and look forward.
At the foot of my bed stands a figure, cloaked in a veil of black wearing a hood of some sort. It stands with its gaze apparently fixed upon me, I can’t tell for I see no face. My God! What is this wretched thing? This must be the figure Alfred spoke to me about earlier today. I have never feared anything so much before in my life. I sense an evil air coming off of its presence, a cruel and sinister feeling surrounding this black mass. What must I do should I try and frighten it away? Is that even possible? I don’t know if you can scare a ghost or not, but I must give it a try.
This thing must have the ability to read one’s thoughts, for as I finalized my thoughts It held up its hand and pointed at me, a long and slender looking finger, or at least I think it was finger. It looks at me with a icy stare. What does it want with me? Is it going to kill me? Damn myself for ever taking this ridiculous challenge. What’s this I see now? It appeared that two red orbs formed in the center of the figures head, right where a pair of eyes would be. But these are growing! And they appear to be made a fire. Jesus save me! This must be the devil coming to drag me to Hell. I don’t want to die! Sweet God I don’t want to die! And burying my face in my pillow I begin to sob like a little girl who finds herself lost in the woods at night
Then all is quiet. I hear no sound. No thunder. No rain. No strange noises from within the walls or downstairs. I look up from my pillow and the light of the full moon has lit up my bedroom. The specter has vanished! No more! I can’t handle this no more. I must get rid of that candle at once. No amount of money is worth this much terror. Placing on my robe and getting a light I rush downstairs to go to my mantle and destroy the black candle and make double sure that the thing I had just laid eyes on never goes to haunt any one again. I will destroy it for all that is good and decent in the world. I will destroy it so no one will have to suffer a night like this as I have. I will…..
I enter my study and go to the mantle. My heart stops and a scream gets caught in the base of my throat. The candle was gone, and the only trace of anyone else being here was the burned impression of a hand on the wood.
