Bedtime came early. The lights, i extinguished. In favor of my brief candle. Once lit, she told me a flickering tale of terror. The milk waters enlarged around my pupils, as I listened to the madness, in silent breakbeats on the walls. Each shadow spoke twice the flickering volume of light, all around. A sweet scent of chamomile came out of liquid wax, and froze my bones. Like spider venom. All so subtle. I could have screamed! Were I not so seduced, lying in bed in my silks and cotton. Watching murderous tales of blood lust from dark places. Apparitions along the walls. Then the flickering light drew together, so strange I can hardly describe! As the wax just congealed, in this unnatural way. While burning was the wick? Then I became of a blur, all my self. As her tale spun me around and my feather down, down…into a sleep so deep… I would never be found. Just a solitary candle signals smoke, in an empty small room, at blue dawn.