Isla peeled away from the bed post, forcing her feet to shuffle forward to the smoking candle as she tried to shove the fear from the back of her throat back to her chest. The light still burned in her eyes in the pitch black, her only reference to its location. Isla reached out blindly, hand colliding with the table abruptly. Taking a breath, she weaved her shaking hands up and across its surface, trying to focus on the items and not her beating heart. Brush…mirror…box, probably matches.
Isla picked up the solid object and shook it, hearing the loose match sticks rattling within. Slipping the box open, she searched for the hollow, holding it up and down so as not to pour the sticks to the ground. A small thud froze Isla in place, fingers clasped around one small match. Her ragid breathing filled the following silence and forced her back into motion. She needed light, that was the only answer.
Grasping the match she felt around the box for the texture of the starter, quickly raking the red bulb along the edge. Fire burst to life, flaring before calming to the end of the stick. Using the open flame Isla quickly found the candle, lighting the charred wick and bringing more light to hand as the match continued to burn. Flicking the flame away, she set the burnt match on the gleaming cherry wood table and lifted the candle, holding it into the darkness. She remained unaware of the shadowy being that stood behind her, clawed hand slowly, cautiously, reaching for her.