The Candle That Burned With Memories
Light That Reveals More Than Darkness
When the candle burned, images flickered in its flame—moments from the past, faces long lost, choices left unmade. Those who looked too long risked drowning in nostalgia or regret. A man grieving his wife lit the candle nightly, hoping to see her smile again. But the flame showed not only her smile—it showed the love he still carried and the life he still needed to live. One night, the candle burned out, its final spark showing his wife placing a hand on his shoulder. He understood then that memories are not meant to be lived inside—they are meant to guide us out.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from GoldenSpeech and writers in Chapters and other communities.
The Village Where Mirrors Told the Future
In this village, mirrors showed not reflections but potential futures. Some saw themselves wealthy, others lonely, others surrounded by family. But the mirrors never guaranteed anything—they simply revealed what could be. A young woman saw herself as a healer revered across the land, yet she had no medical skill. Instead of despairing, she trained with village elders, learning herbs, remedies, and empathy. Years later, she realized the mirror had not predicted her success—it had inspired it. A greedy merchant, seeing himself rich, grew lazy, expecting the future to arrive without effort. He ended up poorer than before. The mirrors taught the villagers a profound lesson: the future is not a promise—it is an invitation.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
Bruce Lee and The God of War: Kuan Ti
It starts with love.. The Power to the God Of War and Wealth Walk into a Chinese restaurant (even in Oklahoma, USA), a Chinese police station, a kung fu martial arts studio or even a Chinese temple and you often see a red faced warrior holding a heavy quan-do (spear like weapon).
By SAMURAI SAM AND WILD DRAGONSabout a month ago in Chapters
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewartabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.