Candles

Maybe candles can hold a special wish? A story about a young girl who went through a traumatic experience & her wish is to forget.

Candles

You’re blowing out your candles at your fourth birthday and you’re told to wish for something big, but don’t tell a soul or it won’t come true. You squeeze your eyes shut so no light comes seeping through, you take in as much oxygen as your little lungs can handle and you think of the most important thing in your life and you wish with all your might.

Soon that flame holding your wish is a thin cloud of smoke lingering in the air around you. Like a burning candle can make a wish come true…but how are we supposed to know?

We grow up naive believing everything grown-ups tell us – that the only pain you’ll feel are the scrapes and bruises from falling off the swing set. They didn’t prepare us for broken hearts or hurtful words. You were once a four-year-old blowing out birthday candles full of curiosity, joy, and cookies from your grandparent’s cookie jar.

Being a four-year-old doesn’t come with responsibility and big decisions. The struggles you face are nap time and getting caught eating too many of those cookies. At the time, these struggles may seem like a big deal, but as your curiosity grows, you learn more, you grow older, and your responsibilities and mindset change.

Now, it’s six candles and her wish is to forget. But don’t worry – she won’t tell a soul.

Her eyes are panicky, her voice is weak, she’s scared stiff. It’s black with smooth ridges, his hand fits perfectly as he holds it tight with his index finger on a semi-circle. His elbow is extended all the way with this black object pointed at her forehead. He is laughing while another man standing next to him chimes in because he finds it funny, too. Nerves spike throughout her body as she tries to step back, but her feet are glued to the floor. She doesn’t quite understand why this black object is in front of her eyes.

It’s going to take everything she has to scream; her voice is so infirm.

“Help” she tries to utter. “Madison, where are you?” she cries out. Sometimes 30 seconds feels like a lifetime, but before she knows it dark curly hair is in front of her eyes. Madison stands firm, eyes bold.

“Sophia, go to your room,” she says. She steps back, but she can’t leave her. She can’t let Madison get hurt. His playful eyes become solemn. He lowers the black object and nudges his buddy to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. They shuffle their way down the stairs.

Madison turns around, her eyes clouded, holding raindrops in, but they fall oh so suddenly. Her grip is tight, her heart is pounding, she is trembling with fear but she is way too strong to show him that she is breaking. Who knew an eight-year-old could be so strong?

After a few minutes, she asks if Sophia is okay, as if she didn’t just do something terrifying. Sophia says, “I’m fine – I would just prefer not to talk about it.”

Sophia goes to her bedroom where her walls and bedspread match a pretty pink, she climbs up the latter to the top bunk and lies down. She stares at the ceiling and runs her fingertips over the rough popcorn textured ceiling and in some way, it brings her comfort.

Sophia feels a warm grip on her forearm.

“Sophia, wake up.” Her eyes shutter from the bright light. Madison is standing by her bedside.

“You were tossing and turning, screaming stop it in your sleep, are you okay?”

Her response is short, “Yes, I’m fine,” as she rolls to the other side of the bed.

Being in touch with her emotions was a difficult task, so getting people to talk about her feelings was strenuous.

“You can’t hide forever, Sophia,” Madison snaps back.

Sophia doesn’t respond. She just closes her eyes and tells herself to block it out, to forget about the black object. It won’t happen again.

The seconds keep ticking, the minutes roll by, becoming hours, days and then years.

So maybe she wasn’t naïve after all, maybe the candle really did hold a special wish. She never told a soul, so over time that black object with smooth ridges that fit his hand so perfectly just faded into an echo wandering aimlessly throughout her mind, almost as if it had never happened.

Gone.