Writing Prompt: Artificial Light

I moved from room to room lighting candles.  Some were plain and thick, the kind that sits comfortably in a glass dish. Others were long, thin and scented, meant for a candelabra over the cheerfully burning fireplace.

In a blackout, you’re forced to think about the things that you take for granted when the lights are working. As the sun began to set, I used the last remaining minutes of light to make a nest out of some quilts on the floor, prepare a pot of tea and find the cat. My book, half-read sat on the coffee table.

As I nestled into my spot on the floor, the cat curled up beside me and I read aloud to her as the dusk light gave way to the flicker of the candles.

I sipped my tea and enjoyed the stark quiet of a house devoid of TV sounds, the beep of my tweetdeck, the thump thump thump of the laundry spin cycle.

I watched the shadows of the house transform into apparitions and my mind conjured scenes of apocalyptic seclusion and zombie attacks where the cat and I were left alone to survive in the dark. The scene changed in my head and I imagined a deep, candle lit conversation with someone special. At last, I imagined what it would be like to always have that sort of peace and quiet and all the time in the world to read my ever-growing mountain of books by tea and candlelight.

It’s amazing what a little candlelight and quiet can do. Try it. Turn off all the appliances, light the candles and write.

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