The Candles Party

The Candle’s Party

“Lucinda Candle, you are gorgeous,” one of my cousins exclaimed. I fluttered my eyelids before turning to gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I certainly was pretty; there were no two ways about it. My creamy white dress had been embossed with the most exquisite roses and I knew there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that I was by far the loveliest of all the candles at the party. My friends clustered around me oohing and awing, and no doubt we did make a charming sight. Someone opened the door; it was one of the people who thought they owned us, and we quietly and in obstructively moved back to our positions on the mantle shelf above the fireplace.

Madam came and picked us up one by one, caressing us admiringly before arranging us just so in groups of three on various lace-covered tables that were scattered throughout the banquet room. I took note with a self -satisfied nod that she placed me at the head table where the guest of honor would be seated. Our table was graced with the most stunning of all the bouquets. Two of my smaller cousins accompanied me. All the tables had an assorted variety of colorful blossoms, but the roses, ah; the roses on our table were by far the sweetest and the best.

All the young ladies trouped in to the lilting music of violins and other lively instruments. After maids, wearing soft blue dresses covered with white aprons, scurried around serving all manner of delectable dainties and steaming cups of tea, someone else followed to light all of us candles. Oh, my! My heart leaped to my throat. Oh, my, surely they will not light me! My gorgeous gown would be ruined, entirely ruined!

 For some reason they started at the back and wove in and out among the tables. I watched trembling as they came closer and closer.

“Why do they bother?” I cried out in anguish, “With that fine electric chandelier up above, the flames will be hardly noticed.” In all the excited babble of girlish voices, I wasn’t even heard.

Ah my, they reached me at last. The flame stung as it touched my wick and I shuddered. What a disgrace, what a shame. I will be so ugly with that black mark on my wick, and will never be quite so pleasing again.  Oh, I do hope they won’t keep that flame going too long or I will be utterly ruined.

Then the electric lights were put out and even I was dazzled by the display of dancing flames reflecting against all the silver cups and cutlery. But I forgot myself for only a moment before remembering I also was burning out in useless service to these giggling girls.

               First one then another tear slid down the elegantly carved front of my gown. “

               “What’s wrong with this candle?” A cross young voice startled me out of my revere. “It sputters and never lights up properly. Get me another one. This one is useless!”

               Smitten and shame faced, I was hurried away from the party while a tall, rather angular looking relation dressed in utilitarian blue took my place. And did she burn brightly!

               I pined away on the mantle shelf, but no one noticed or even cared.