The Nighthawk's Candle: I.

Part I.

 

I.

 

There was no Nighthawk, and no candle, but it was called the Nighthawk’s Candle all the same. It was a light in the woods, and had been there as long as anyone’s grandfather could remember. On sunny, bright days it was pale and yellow like glass; when rain fell in torrents it was a white shimmer, and at night it was a fallen star, silver-gold and glowing.

 

It never went out.

 

When the clearing of the forest had first begun, so that the men of the village could collect wood to build their first homes many generations ago, the woodcutters had found the Candle. It had been hidden deep within the forest, but now it sparkled on its fringe, for all the trees shielding it had been cut down, yet no one dared to go further. The queer, unwavering light was inexplicable, and was therefore a warning.

Perhaps this warning was what had led the villagers to invent the Nighthawk. There was no account of any such being in any of the old woodcutters’ accounts of the discovery of the candle, yet still he stalked through the people’s folklore and imaginations like a dread ghost: Tall, slim, deadly. He sometimes wore a mask, and sometimes not; sometimes carried a sword, sometimes a pistol, and sometimes merely throttled unwary travelers with his hands.

 

For he was always a being of death. And he had always wide, dilated eyes, whose blackness could destroy the mind of a victim who gazed within them, and long black hair. His fate was, inextricably, bound up with the Candle flame. Women said he haunted it, guarding the light jealously, for it was his soul. And the men laughed, but did not contradict.

 

Because in the end it was merely a story, and the womenfolk could make what they liked of it, as long as they did not frighten the children too terribly. True, no one knew exactly what made the light burn in the trees, the light that never went out, but this was an ancient land, with ancient mysteries, and since the light did no one any harm, and no one needed wood any longer, there was no point in brooding. There was no Nighthawk; of that all men and even the storytelling wives were certain.

 

But children were warned against playing near the Nighthawk’s Candle.

 

Just in case.

 

Reviews

[Tunileret]

I like it. It's very mysterious, just like a forest. I get a vague image of a lamp post in the woods, but that might just be me. Is it like a fea light, like an orb or concentrated point of light, or is it just a suffused light that seems to come from no definable source? Definately want to read chapter 2! And I call making the Second review, seeing as Laureleaf-Elendil just told me about this site...I will do her justice. I like old fashioned pistols. They're fun. Hehe. I get a picture of Heathcliff oddly enough in my head...I've definately been watching too much PBS. Didn't like that story much anyway-not that I'm maligning your work though. I think I just put my foot in my mouth. Elendil will agree that I tend to do that often...ugh.

Evelyn (Tunileret)

[Jhaniel]

Yay, the first review was Laureleaf's! *grin*
You surmise correctly. I envision this to take place in a pseudo-fantasy-late-Renaissance period, which is unusual for me, but it felt better. This actually takes place in the world of my trilogy, just in the future . . . waaaay in the future. So I do slip in a few hints about my own story in here, but they're immaterial, really. More to please myself than anything.

[Laureleaf]

Yay! the first review is mine! (assuming no one else is working on this now...*looks around quickly*)
I really liked your diction in this piece--how your words are cadenced like how old storytellers used to present the tales. Your descriptions are, as always, lovely (or eerie, in the case of the Nighthawk. This line--"And he had always wide, dilated eyes, whose blackness could destroy the mind of a victim who gazed within them" was absolutely fantastic.).
One line confused me a little bit--you say 'no one needed wood any longer'. Does this mean that the story takes place in more modern times? You did mention that he sometimes used a pistol, so it could be anywhere from the...late sixteen-hundreds? to today. It's not really a problem, I'm just wondering if I'm putting the pieces together correctly.
Wonderful job! Looking forward to Chapter 2!
~Laureleaf