The Candle That Wouldn’t Go Out

When Mia’s grandmother died, she inherited a strange black candle sealed in glass waxed shut with red thread. A note read:

“Only light it when you’re truly alone.”

The first night, the candle’s flame flickered but never dimmed — even when she blew hard enough to hurt her cheeks. The next night, it began whispering — soft murmurs of her thoughts before she’d even spoken them.

On the fourth night, it said her name.

On the fifth, it told her what she’d dream.

On the sixth, it told her she’d never wake up.

When police found the room days later, the candle was still burning — her body gone, her reflection visible only in the wax.