Hope's Flame
There was the hiss of a match, and a blob of flame lit up the attic room. Jen set the candle on the small table and sat, huddling into her hoodie for warmth. No electricity again. She knew by now that drunk parents doesn鈥檛 excuse bills.
For a moment the hate and despair welled up, pushing out words soft as smoke. 鈥I wish I was dead.鈥
The chair across from her slid forward with a scuffing noise. She jerked her head up to see a man with pale skin and black hair smiling at her. His teeth were shark points.
鈥淎 wish,鈥 he whispered. 鈥淚 love wishes.鈥
Jen鈥檚 breath caught. She choked, scooting backwards, away from the creature that now stared intently at the flame between them.
鈥淢ake a wish,鈥 he whispered, then pretended to blow out the candle. It flickered, then settled back into its steady glow. He grinned at her. 鈥淵ou can never be too old for wishes. Isn鈥檛 that right, Jen?鈥
She didn鈥檛 respond, fear clogging her throat. Jen was used to shouting, to fists, to slurred insults. Not smiling devils with knives for teeth.
The man leaned forward, clasping gray hands on the table. His nails glinted in the light. 鈥淚 know what holds you back, my dear. A wisp of hope. Perhaps your parents will finally show you love and warmth. Perhaps there鈥檚 a better life waiting for you 鈥.鈥 He slowly shook his head. 鈥淗ope is a terrible thing.鈥
Her thin arms shifted involuntarily, wrapping around herself. She cleared her throat, pushed aside the fear. 鈥淐an you take it away?鈥
He shrugged. 鈥淵ou are not the first to request it of me. Wish hope away, wish life away, and the pain ends.鈥 He gave a soft tutting noise. 鈥淥nly fifteen, and so much anguish. I call that death. Unlike the peaceful task I鈥檓 called for. Don鈥檛 you agree?鈥
She looked at the candle standing sentinel on the table. Tears of wax slid down its side, heading for a destination that would leave them cold and hard.
She took a shaky breath. 鈥淥nce I wish it, I can鈥檛 take it back, right?鈥
鈥淵ou would not want to,鈥 he said, tilting his head. 鈥淰ery few regret this wish.鈥
鈥淏ut people do regret it.鈥 She stated it as fact, looking him in the eye for the first time.
鈥淵ou cannot please everyone,鈥 he said, shrugging. 鈥淪urely you know this, living with those brutes below. Fighting to convince them you鈥檙e worth the scraps they spend on you.鈥 He smiled again, pointed teeth glinting. 鈥淒o you not wish to leave it behind? The mockery, the contempt, the flesh striking flesh 鈥.鈥
She shifted to sit on her trembling hands. The chair creaked beneath her.
鈥淲ishes,鈥 he said, sitting back, 鈥渃ome from the deepest, most honest parts of ourselves. It is bravery, my dear, that you are able to admit your desire. Even more brave if you can carry it through. Kill hope, and you can leave this pain-ridden life behind.鈥
鈥淚 just need to blow it out?鈥 Her voice was hoarse.
鈥淐orrect.鈥
They watched the candle. The rest of the room was black but for the twitching light.
鈥淲hy does it do that?鈥 she asked suddenly, her large eyes reflecting the flame.
鈥淒o what?鈥 he purred.
鈥淩each up. Flicker side to side, then up.鈥
鈥淭hat鈥檚 what hope does,鈥 he said, examining his nails. 鈥淩eaches in vain for something that does not exist.鈥
She frowned. 鈥淣o. It has warmth. It has -鈥
鈥淧ain. Is that what you seek?鈥
She looked at him, at the bone-white face, the black eyes. His lips were pursed in concern, but his eyes were frost.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to be cold anymore.鈥 She said the words slowly, but her tone was firm.
The man frowned. 鈥淪o be it. Let hope warm you. But I give you this choice only once. Leave the flame 鈥 or blow it out.鈥
Jen reached slowly for the candle, the light illuminating the white scars on her hands. For a moment, she hesitated. Then she cupped them around the flame. The heat spread slowly, through her fingers and wrists, up her arms and towards her chest.
When she looked up, the chair opposite her was empty.
Adina Edelman
Adina received a B.A. in English and Creative Writing summa cum laude from Southern New Hampshire University. An editor for the Baltimore Review, she has published a short story in The Penmen Review and a poem with Mizmor Poetry Anthology. Adina tutors and writes out of Baltimore, MD.