Inferno

A Story by k.victoria

How like candles we are. We start in one shape, and as we are exposed to light, to new things, we melt. We twist and fall into a shape that we never intended to be. Does the candle start its life knowing that one day it will end up a puddle of neatly scented wax? Does it realize that its days are numbered and that it will live so long as its owner forgets to light it on fire? Or is it unaware? Fully believing that it will forever remain a candle…how innocently optimistic.

I have always known that I was a candle. Just as I have always know that I would not allow a flame to bend me to its will.

But I did not prepare for you. You, who wasn’t just a flame; you were an inferno. And I had no idea that you would mold me into something different, something...more. I did not know that you would melt me.

I had, foolishly, believed that I was a candle that was impervious to flame.