Power Cut

Leading the way, a dim candle light shining out in golden splendour. The only hope in the darkness, a message from heaven. Rotten wood planks creek underfoot, thick air undulating around my face. Scents of dank mould float on the silence, the dark engulfs everything, but the candle radiates love and light. The dark is hunting closing in on its prey attempting to enshroud the dying candle. Lit up by the faint glow the sodden walls of the cellar repel me.

Eventually the gloom chokes the candle, suffocating the heavenly brilliance of the soft light, the only thing that gave me hope during the power cut. 

Gloom and misery cloak the room, all hope forgotten now, everything gives up. The walls sigh, endlessly waiting for the soft caress of light. The cellar sleeps succumbed by the dark. 

A faint crack. 

A flicker of light. 

The room seems to jump like a happy child, it lights up as if smiling. To me these walls are no longer cruel and repulsive; they shine, lit up in splendour by the light. 

Joyful, I smile and look around, all is restored, but I can’t help missing the candle that lead my way.