Candle of lavender and vanilla, sweet scent, delicious aroma. Soothing thoughts going through the mind for a minute or two, especially if this girl is someone like you. Young girl, age of 19 years, sits near the window on a sunset colored eve, gazing through the frost covered glass out to the snow. Tresses of auburn hair cupping around a sleek, slender face, cascading down her neck, shoulders, and back to end in soft curls. Her eyes were of purple variety, mixes of dark and light, swirling around towards the center, making the beauty stand out much more. Slender body, frame of elegance, hands like gorgeous sculptures, and features that would take away the breath of any man who happened to glance upon such rare, unique beauty. However, on this particular night, there was no man to hold her, no man to cherish her beauty, no one to whisper in her ear causing laughter to bubble, the sound being of chimes or of bells. It was the time of World War II that this girl lived in, her husband being away at war, her fear of his death an everlasting fragment of her heart, throbbing with a bit of pain each time a car pulled up, she not knowing if he was going to come out, the pain instantly dying down when his face came forward, a brilliant smile shaping his lips.
This time, it seemed to be different. The arrival of her husband was taking longer than usual and this only added to the feeling of things going wrong in that day for the power was out, the house darkened with the exception of candlelight littered everywhere. The snow was coming down harder making it difficult to see past the frost that painted the window white, the lonely feeling causing the heart to ache with the need to have him home, to have him comfort that pain away. All that was there to really give this girl some kind of warmth was the small, flicking flame of a candle. The way it moved, the way it danced reminded her of when they used to dance together, sometimes the dance being slow and other times the movement of their bodies intertwining in time with each other. Memories of the time that was spent apart also seemed to dance within this flame, memories that hadn't thought in a very long time. With pen still in hand, the tip barely touching the parchment, ink beginning to fall in crystal black drops, breaking on contact with the paper, she simply stared into this candles flame, watching the life that it had, watching how it seemed to enjoy doing its dance. Not really talking any notice as the time went by, this small, luminous, glowing body seemed to grow, stretch, and take on the shape of person, the flames that licked her arms mixing with the length of her hair. So, sitting there, letting her mind wander, she watched the candle, the light getting bright, as it danced…watched as it came alive….