Booktok Candles Novels & Stories

' I ask Axel. 'Definitely unscented. It would only distract from the smell of the food.' 'Excellent point, good looking out as always, Axel,' I commend him. 'Always a pleasure, Chris,' he says while managing an awkward salute with his paw. I can’t help but laugh. Points for effort though. I grab some white candles from the kitchen drawer, place them in some candle holders – not silver ones – and set them on the table. I step back and smile at my presentation feeling very proud of myself.

It’s more likely that a draught from the door or windows disturbed the pristine alter cloth. My gaze passes over the objects on the table, white candles, willow branches, bundles of herbs, trinkets and tchotchkes. My eyes settle upon an open book, the pages are loosely bound and the gilded illustration depicts a woman being lifted into the clouds by two sets of hands. In my awe of the tome I forget about the potential stowaway. I must have this book, the people are no more, so it will not be missed and I cannot fight the urge to reach out and pluck it from its resting place. It is cumbersome to hold, even with both hands and I have no idea how I will hide it from Halen.

A tiny box is being held by the plush animal. I glance at Nathaniel instead of the arrangement in the center. Nathaniel has a brilliant yellow candle in his hand as well as a yellow bear. It appears as though the candle contains tiny stars made of yellow wax. In contrast, Alexander is holding a little brown candle in the hand of a light brown bear. It appears to be topped with a white and pink biscuit and tiny dark brown wax coffee beans. Sebastian is carrying a light blue candle and a dark blue teddy. The candle features a miniature duck that appears to be made of wax, along with small strips that resemble pool noodles.

The approval in her voice pleased me more than it should have. “I was told simple.” “This is simple.” “I know.” She glanced at me. “You sound proud of yourself.” “A little.” We entered with the evening crowd. Nobody stopped us. A few people looked toward me, but the cap and winter coat helped. Allie kept her scarf high until we reached a quieter row of stalls. The first stand sold handmade candles. She smelled nearly every one. “This is terrible,” I said after she handed me another jar. “It smells like cinnamon.” “It smells like something burned.”

About the book that had ten lines and was becoming the thing it was supposed to become. The inside view. From someone who had lived it. I opened the document. Did not add a line. Instead I scrolled back to the first line and read all ten from the beginning. What I Know About Starting Over. I bought the candles on sale. They were ivory tapers, twelve dollars for a pair, and I lit them at seven o'clock and waited for a man who had already chosen somewhere else to be. What I know now, that I did not know then, is that the candles were never for him.

With Bennett's fiery temper, Sean could end up worse than just beaten. Sean could not risk it. His face darkened with a terrible gravity. In a heartbeat, Sean blurted, "Honey, Mom's spiritual advisor said you should light a candle on the quiet rooftop before the baby comes, to pray for a safe birth!" A rooftop? The only way up was the stairs. It looked like Sean had a plan to send me tumbling down. I did not argue. I just followed him up the stairwell. "Babe, I'll lead. Watch your step, okay?" said Sean, his concern as thin as ice.

I had taken this lesson and sharpened it into a weapon. “Yes,” I said. “The ledger. The old bindwork. Not the bright war-fire that leaves a name to singe, this is a knife’s whisper.” I left the balcony and the servants parting around me like the tide once does around stone. My sanctum smelled like dried herbs and a touch of old iron. Shelves bowed under books whose bindings had seen many winters. I set three candles and named them as if they were little gods—ash for secrecy, myrrh for binding, sandalwood for the carriage of will. I drew the ledger from a locked drawer, a book of names and debts bound in soft leather, and let my fingers run over the pages.

I removed it from his mouth and firmly held it 'til he gave me an answer I'll be satisfied with. “Why here?” He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were there. And after what seemed like an eternity, he finally looked at me with a smile on his face and eyes emitting with something that made me feel safe even if I am with a stranger. “I guess I want too much.” He was definitely a riddle. I shook my head with an amused smile on my lips. I finally gave him his cigarette and I lit it with his lighter. “What does that make you feel?” I asked, pertaining to his cigarette.

I asked. “Scents and visuals. You know all that good stuff human men are into,” said Becky. I shook my head. “Do you want me to put on lingerie and fill the room with candles? “That is exactly what I want you to do,” said Becky, “But make sure they are scented candles and choose a feminine scent that would drive any man insane. I know you always have those lying around your house in bulk.” “I like them a lot, but I never thought I would be using those for this reason,” I said.

Inside the box were carefully arranged items nestled in soft tissue paper. A lavender-scented candle. A bottle of rose-infused bath oil. A silk sleep mask embroidered with tiny flowers. Herbal tea sachets in a small tin labeled Calm Evening Blend. A jar of organic honey. A bar of handmade oatmeal soap. And at the bottom lay a pair of soft cream-colored socks beside a delicate ceramic mug that read: Take care of yourself. Chelsea let out a quiet laugh. It was… adorable. Thoughtful. Soft. Her fingers lingered on the mug as warmth spread through her chest.