My eyes slowly burn as I try to write by candlelight, forgetting for a while that with one click of a switch I'd be fine again. Still, the story wouldn't have the same meaning; the characters wouldn't stand out in my mind with fluorescent lights piercing the darkness, a direct hit on the monitor, while candlelight creates movement and a calm that lets me write words worthy of writing.
As I continue to write by candlelight, tiny dancers make their presence known as a result of the strain, and my eyes feel them as I try not to blink too often, at least until I finish this paragraph or two. I'll admit there have been moments when I stop and close my eyes, still seeing the tiny dancers in shadow form under my eyelids. I stay still, waiting for them to finish their dance before I continue writing.
Refreshed, I continue as the flames from the candle come alive again, more dancing, more shadows, and more images to capture as words flow like a lazy river. At last I'm finished, and I save the final draft of my story and put it away, hoping someday it will be read by candlelight as tiny dancers perform for you as they do for me.
Refreshed, I continue as the flames from the candle come alive again, more dancing, more shadows, and more images to capture as words flow like a lazy river. At last I'm finished, and I save the final draft of my story and put it away, hoping someday it will be read by candlelight as tiny dancers perform for you as they do for me.
Mike 2026
Mike 2026
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