Infinite candles in a room, floating unaware of each-other.
Like stars in the sky they hover motionless.
A tall disheveled figure waits in the darkness,
draped in black cloth; ripped, ragged, and worn down.
Adorned by holes in the sleeves, near its skeletal hands.
Spots where the material has been burnt through by candle lights.
The cloth looks like it has been worn for centuries, perhaps longer.
It looks around the seemingly boundless room.
Where its eyes should be are empty holes.
Empty...
Empty like its heart.
Hollow and cold like a cave never touched.
Sad and dreary, like the cry of a mother who lost their child.
Empty like the night of mourning.
Quiet and solemn.
Beautiful in it's all... but empty.
The only sound is the crackling of the flames,
reminding you of something.
Something greater, something unknown.
Like the endless depths of the oceans.
The whispers on the wind.
The shadows in the corners.
There, but often unnoticed.
Visible, but hidden.
A tiny ripple in a sea of waves.
The creature stops.
It is time.
Its' arm reaches out for a candle, holding it tight.
The flame struggles, like a dying breath.
One tiny flicker, a last attempt to survive.
The cloaked thing touches the flame with a bony finger, freeing the flame from its struggle.
Smoke rises into the air, gone within seconds.
Like it was never there.
It waits.
Then, it blows onto the candle wick.
Behold, there is fire once more.
A cry echoes in the room.
A babe has been born.
