The Candle That Burned Brighter
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village named Dunwell, perched on the edge of a mighty river, lived a humble tribe. This tribe was known far and wide for their unique tradition — The Festival of Lights. They believed that every soul bore its own light and this festival was their way of rejoicing that light. The tribe was humble, but they had one precious possession, a great wax candle, given to them by the spirits of their ancestors. This was no ordinary candle. It was huge, towering megalithically, standing in the heart of the village. It was said that the flame of this candle held the prosperity and happiness of Dunwell.
On a chilly autumn night, the young spirited Aria was entrusted with the responsibility of caring for the great candle. She was barely sixteen, with sparkling hazel eyes, chestnut brown hair, and a heart burning with curiosity. She found delight in the simplest of things and yearned for fearless adventures. As dawn kissed the village, Aria took her first close look at the colossal waxen monument. Her heart pounded with excitement and fear.
One bone-chilling night, while Aria was guarding the flame, a turbulent storm approached Dunwell. The people scurried off, preparing for the harsh onslaught, but Aria stood her ground, determined to not let the flame flicker out. She gathered every bit of courage and cloth and covered the monumental candle with it, bracing herself against the howling wind and rain. Hours trickled by, and finally, the storm subsided. As dawn swept away the remnants of the violent wind, the villagers found the candle intact, and its flame burning bright.
Their joy knew no bounds, and they celebrated Aria's bravery, but deep down a seed of worry was sown in the young girl's heart. Would she forever be captivated in the shadows of the candle's flame? she wondered. Aria yearned to see her light burn brighter than the ancient flame, but didn't know how.
One day, while inspecting the banks of the river, she stumbled upon an old wilted tree trunk. It appeared to be hollow inside. An idea sparked in Aria's mind. She spent the following days gathering wax drippings from the great candle and stored them into the hollow trunk. Meticulously, she molded the interior of the trunk and placed a thick cotton wick at its center. After weeks of toil and determination, Aria had managed to create her own giant candle.
The day of The Festival of Lights arrived. As the first drop of sunset coloured the sky, Aria ignited her candle, and it roared to life. The flame danced gracefully in the gentle wind, casting an orange glow on the surprised villagers. The great candle of Dunwell was no longer the only source of light in the village. Aria had managed to create her own.
The villagers stood in awe, staring at the mesmerizing sight. Aria's candle was not as tall as the monumental one, nor did it hold any ancestral spirits. But it was painstakingly handcrafted, infused with the love, toil, and dreams of the young girl. Placed side by side, the two flames appeared almost companions, each burning in their rhythm, spreading warmth and happiness all around.
From that day on, the village of Dunwell had two revered candles, but among them, Aria's candle held a remarkable place. For it not only stood tall as a beacon of light but also as the manifestation of dedication, hard work, and the urge to rise beyond the norms.
Aria had indeed created her own light and allowed it to burn brighter than any other flame in her world. In doing so, she not only preserved the tradition of her village but also set ablaze a path for her own self, illuminating her spirit and dreams.