The shrinking candle flickered against the onslaught of
darkness. It wasn’t romantic now in the old, stone cottage as the storm raged
and the sea crashed against the cliffs. With the battery dead in her laptop and
phone, Kirsty had nothing to occupy her other than the small orange flame that hungrily
devoured the candle.
The door flung open. Kirsty let out a scream as the howling
wind swirled around the room.
“It’s only me. Chinese as promised,” said Mark cheerily,
slamming the door shut. “Locals say the power often goes out up here. I got a few
more candles too.” Kirsty relaxed in the warm, comfortable glow.
Rapidly, a chill descended around them, candles snuffed out,
swamping the room in darkness. The wind swirled around Kirsty’s legs. She
couldn’t speak as the candles suddenly lit; revealing a shadow; a figure
standing by the door, looking out.
“I see it too,” whispered Mark. The door flew open and the figure drifted out.
“Come on!” Mark followed to the edge of the cliffs, mesmerised by the shadow,
his candle not blowing out in the wind.
“Look!” Kirsty pointed out to sea where a light bobbed erratically
towards the rocks, watching in silence as the light changed direction and the
glowing of the candle faded.
“What was it and will it come back?” Kirsty asked, walking
back carefully, directed by the light from their cottage.
“Who knows but one thing is certain Kirsty, lives were saved
tonight.”
245
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