A mute old woman sold candles she called "Maiden's Candles." The wax was pale and translucent, and when lit, t…
A mute old woman sold candles she called "Maiden's Candles." The wax was pale and translucent, and when lit, they gave off a sweet, heady fragrance. Rumor had it the tallow was rendered from the bones of girls who had died unwed. Light one, they said, and you would see whatever your heart most desired.
A wayward young man bought one, bolted his door, and put it to flame. Through the sweet-scented haze and the wavering light, the figure of the neighbor girl he had long pined for took shape. She smiled, dimples and all, and reached out her hand as if to draw him into a dance. He sat transfixed, day and night, forsaking food and drink.
On the third day, the sweetness curdled. The girl's form began to rot. Her flesh peeled away before his eyes, baring white bones that stared back at him with hollow sockets and a grinning jaw. He lurched to flee, but his legs were dead weight, heavy as poured wax. Then the flame lurched. The skeleton lunged from the fire, ice-cold bone fingers closing around his throat.
The village elder broke in when the smell became unbearable. He found the young man rigid in his chair, eyes wide open, a strange fixed smile on his face. The candle had burned to nothing, leaving a pool of cloudy grease on the table, sweet rot heavy in the air. Candle drippings had traced a path down to the floor, cooling into three twisted characters: "Come With Me."
The neighbor girl had died three days before, during a break-in. When the village buried her, they found one vertebra missing from her spine.