Sixteen Candles Debby Ryan Novels & Stories

Slowly, I reached out and took the candle from her, watching as the flame danced and flickered in the darkness. It is a strange and eerie scene, one that left me feeling unsettled. As the ritual came to an end, the energy in the room slowly dissipated, leaving behind an eerie silence. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the flame and the soft rustle of clothing as Cynthia stood before me, eagerly waiting for my reaction.

Debbie then pushed back her chair slightly and reached for a small bundle she had brought with her. “I’ve been working on something,” she said. She untied the cloth and revealed several small lantern designs she had crafted. They were beautiful. Each one was made from light wood and colored paper, with delicate patterns carved into the sides. When a candle was placed inside, the light would shine through the shapes. Amara leaned closer. “Oh, those are lovely.” “They’ll hang around the courtyard,” Debbie explained, clearly excited. “Just imagine the whole space glowing with these at night.” I picked one up carefully.

The tawny young girl, kneeling on the stone church floor, carved the candles smooth. The sheared-off drops fell to her lap, trapped in the furrow of rough cloth. As her knife skimmed along the candle's edge, she hummed. And as she hummed, she talked to the odd little creatures that lived in what they called the Candlewood.