Shadows and Dust
He looked at the candle in a strange intense manner, with his soft dark eyes now staring intensely as if the hissing of the candle would bear some deep secrets. Or maybe the aura of light worked as some sort of protective shield against the darkness that ruled the rest of the room … who could tell.
He wished time could hold still, just still so that the sand of the hourglass could eventually flow backwards, to otherweres and otherwhens. But time wasn’t obeying his wish, for a lonely teardrop was slowly finding its way down his cheek, eventually puddling up near the candle.
As lonely as the candle, the tear started to evaporate, slowly.
“That’s it” he thought observing the macabre show.”I am a burning flame, that would consume itself … and will make you dry up eventually. I am dangerous for you”. He sighed, ever so deeply, as another tear rolled on his other cheek, leaving a wet trail behind, only to follow the fate of the other. “I am a wasteland … I dry up and destroy all I touch. I am the desert”.
His hand went about his cheek, feeling the drying trail of the second tear, the only proof that he could feel pain. Searing pain. “I am death of all feelings, why am I here?” he whispered to the candle, as if the living flame could answer. “If I would stop breathing, maybe the world could be a better place. Free of this searing deadly desert that I am”.
The flame could not answer. Instead, it started to dance touched by his breath, listening to his voice in the still of the night. And his eyes were watching.