Spoiler
The layout was simple—a table with two chairs set across from each other. A candlestick stood on the middle of the table. The candle--being the only source of light--lit the room, giving it a faint orange tint. Nothing else was in the room, save for a set of wooden stairs that led upward. Creak…creak, went the stairs. They were aged enough to make such a noise.
From the stairs, a young girl with a bright smile on her face delicately walked down. Behind her, a man of the older variety followed. The girl held his hand and led him to the table. Like a lady of royal times, she sat him down by the table, and tied a short bib around his neck. The girl giddily ran back upstairs, leaving the man alone with no one, but the candles.
The man seemed to stare down at the candlestick, and from an outsider’s view, it would seem like they were having a joyous conversation. Creak, creak, creak, went the stairs once more.
The girl had returned bearing plates and silverware. She set them down in their appropriate places—in front of the man and on where she would sit. A loud beep signaled that the food was ready. The girl giggled as it was deemed acceptable for a youngling her age. She took off, again, leaving the man with the candlestick.
The wax was melting much like a typical candle should. If one was to assume that they were indeed conversing, then perhaps the man had broken the poor candle’s heart? It must be the case as the candle had shed tears, but for what cause? The outsiders did not know, and the man just stared at the candlestick with cold indifference.
Creak…creak…creak, went the stairs for the last time. The girl had returned with another smile as if she had come victorious. With her, she had carried her prize, a plump turkey. It was lightly seasoned, not as much as she wanted, but the girl had to keep the man in mind. She gently set her bounty down on the table almost as if it was a tribute to God, who, if it was, would have been very pleased to be gifted such a meal.
She sat herself across the man. He didn’t touch his silverware. The girl, being the polite hostess, carved the bird. She gave a few slices to the man. He simply stared down at it. The girl sat back down, and patiently looked at the man.
“You must be shy,” she said. The girl followed basic table etiquette and didn’t dare touch her own meal until the guest ate first. “Don’t worry. Nobody will hurt you!” she teased.
He slumped over face first on the meat. The girl gasped in an infantile surprise.
“No!” she scolded. “You’re supposed to eat with forks and knives, silly!”
Of course, it was useless. The man couldn’t respond. How could he? He was dead.
And the candlestick just stared.
From the stairs, a young girl with a bright smile on her face delicately walked down. Behind her, a man of the older variety followed. The girl held his hand and led him to the table. Like a lady of royal times, she sat him down by the table, and tied a short bib around his neck. The girl giddily ran back upstairs, leaving the man alone with no one, but the candles.
The man seemed to stare down at the candlestick, and from an outsider’s view, it would seem like they were having a joyous conversation. Creak, creak, creak, went the stairs once more.
The girl had returned bearing plates and silverware. She set them down in their appropriate places—in front of the man and on where she would sit. A loud beep signaled that the food was ready. The girl giggled as it was deemed acceptable for a youngling her age. She took off, again, leaving the man with the candlestick.
The wax was melting much like a typical candle should. If one was to assume that they were indeed conversing, then perhaps the man had broken the poor candle’s heart? It must be the case as the candle had shed tears, but for what cause? The outsiders did not know, and the man just stared at the candlestick with cold indifference.
Creak…creak…creak, went the stairs for the last time. The girl had returned with another smile as if she had come victorious. With her, she had carried her prize, a plump turkey. It was lightly seasoned, not as much as she wanted, but the girl had to keep the man in mind. She gently set her bounty down on the table almost as if it was a tribute to God, who, if it was, would have been very pleased to be gifted such a meal.
She sat herself across the man. He didn’t touch his silverware. The girl, being the polite hostess, carved the bird. She gave a few slices to the man. He simply stared down at it. The girl sat back down, and patiently looked at the man.
“You must be shy,” she said. The girl followed basic table etiquette and didn’t dare touch her own meal until the guest ate first. “Don’t worry. Nobody will hurt you!” she teased.
He slumped over face first on the meat. The girl gasped in an infantile surprise.
“No!” she scolded. “You’re supposed to eat with forks and knives, silly!”
Of course, it was useless. The man couldn’t respond. How could he? He was dead.
And the candlestick just stared.
Just work on revealing more about the girl and the guy. You can do this subtly without ruining the ending... trust me. Otherwise, it'll remain awfully flat.
