Hi! I know. I know. Youre thinking "she has so many other stories! why is she making another?" Well. I had and idea!
Prologue[]
Rows and rows of candles, all of them lined up in alphabetical order by scent, stood upon a dark, oak table. The table stood in a dark cellar, vines creeping up the walls. Each candel on the table had a note attached to it, holding instructions on how to "use" it. Also in the room was a old, flimsy desk, and sitting on a small stool, made with the same wood as the table with the candels, sat a scrawny old man, franticly writing on scraps of paper. These were the papers for the candles. It was his duty to fulfill. His debt to pay. His fate. His punishment. His life.
Chapter 1- Peach Paradise[]
It is a dark day in smokestone today. Wind is blowing the leaves of of trees. Rain is making mud puddles in the ground. Everybody avoids going outside today. The other children are all being picked up from school by their parents instead of walking home as they do in smokestone. But I am still seen walking home in the freezing cold. My backpack makes me slightly bend under its weight as I fight the wind, taking one powerful step at a time. Luckily, my house is close to my school. I walk up my long driveway but unstop just before I reach the door. There is a candle places precisely in the middle of my doormat. As I bend down to pick it up, I see that there is a note pinned to it. I hold it in my hand. It feels heavy in my hand. I decide to open it once inside, so I open the creaky door and take of my coat and shoes and practically run up into my room. I open my note and this is what it says:
At first it is just wax with a peice of string in it. When you light i is when the magic happens. A small flame, turning the string black. Blue at the bottom edges, then yelllow as bright as the sun. Small drops of sweat emerging from the orange wax. A tropical peachy scent bursting from it. A wet pool of melted wax slowly forming around the flame. It is just a candle at first, but then you will know why I am warning you. So blow it out now before it is too late. Something terrible will happend if you don't. Now the light is over. Small whisps of smoke making its way up from the burned out flame.
THe thing is, I was too late...
TBC
Thanks for reading! Im working on chapter one:)
"Love will always be there!"-Quote by Fel (talk) 23:48, December 28, 2012 (UTC)