Last Light
Sometimes to find something of value you have to risk your life.
Photo by Anjo Antony on Unsplash
Alone in the dark, Hannah could feel the pain that had filled the room.
She struck a match, carefully lighting the candle at her feet.
Indistinct shadows danced across the ancient walls.
She traced the edge of the room, hand brushing the cold stone.
She stopped, hand resting on a single brick, seemingly like all the others.
She leaned in, applying pressure until it began to wobble.
She pried the brick from the wall, dust floating slowly to the floor.
The hollow space revealed a tightly bound stack of yellowed papers.
The last remnants of those who had been sentenced to death.
The candle flickered as she withdrew them.
Pressure built in the room, her head tightening like a vice.
Ignoring the pain, she crouched over the flame whispering, “Walk into the light and reveal what you left behind.”
She held the letters to the candle, the dry paper alight in moments.
Instantly, her breath vanished, throat constricted.
Vision blurring, she focused only on the burning pages, refusing to drop them as tears ran down her cheeks.
The last letter crumbled to ash, air rushed back into her lungs.
Gasping, she rose and carried out another walk of the room.
Not far from the previous brick, she stopped and pulled out another brick.
This time, the hollow revealed a dried flower and a gold necklace that shimmered in the candlelight.
She slipped the necklace into her pocket and placed the brittle flower in the center of the room.
Leaning toward the candle, she whispered, “Thank you,” before extinguishing the flame, leaving the room dark and silent.
