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| Tatty Soup |
Every good intention starts with a candle, he thought... at first. The solemn emptiness was cold and the minute light gave him hope, a nervous flicker betraying the uncertainty of the moment. Was he really good enough? Was he worthy? He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Every good intention starts with a candle. But he doesn't think that anymore. The nervous flicker turned into a blazing nightmare. No one asked. So, he never mentioned his candle. And when someone said "Shall we light a candle, Father?", he always remembered the cold horror, crawling up his back.
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