The Candle’s Keeper

I never believed in the quiet ones. The ones who watch from the edges of your vision, who leave you with the feeling of a cold hand on your neck when you’re alone in the dark. But after that night at Mira’s house, I learned that some watchers are more real than the world would have you believe.

We were in the attic of Mira’s old farmhouse, a musty space filled with forgotten trunks and the smell of damp wood. It was Elena who suggested the candle and the pendant. She claimed it was a way to reach out, to make contact with those who had passed. I rolled my eyes at first, but there was a pull, a curiosity that I couldn’t shake. I gave my address, my full name, and the date. We lit the candle and swayed the pendant in a slow arc, whispering the words she taught us. The flame flickered, but nothing else happened. I felt foolish, but as we blew out the candle, I swear I saw a shadow move across the wall.

That night, I dreamt of a man in a long coat, standing at the foot of my bed. He didn’t speak, but I felt his presence, heavy and expectant. When I woke, I dismissed it as a residual image from the séance. But the very next day, I felt it – a nudge, a subtle chill when I was about to do something I knew wasn’t right. It was like a cold tap on my shoulder, a whisper in my ear that said ‘no.’ I decided to test it. I took a cookie from the jar without asking, and as I bit into it, the lights flickered in my room. The flicker stopped as soon as I put the cookie down. I knew then that whatever we had summoned was real.

I learned his name was Aldous. He had a wife, Beatrice, and two children – Thomas and Clara. They had all died on the land where my house now stood, back in the 1890s, during a harsh winter when the river froze and the fever took them. Aldous became my guardian, my spirit guide, but he was not the only one. I began to see them – brief flashes of a woman in a long dress, children playing in the corners of my vision. They were always there, watching.

A week later, I was walking home from the bus stop when I saw a figure standing at the end of my driveway. It was a man in a long coat, just like in my dream. He didn’t move, but I could feel the cold radiating from him. I walked faster, and when I reached the front door, I turned to look. He was gone. But the air was colder, and I could smell the decay of old wood and ashes.

That evening, as I was doing my homework in my room, I heard my name whispered. It was a child’s voice, soft and innocent. ‘Sarah,’ it said. I froze, my pen hovering over the paper. I looked up, and in the corner of my eye, I saw a small figure sitting on the edge of my bed. When I turned to face it, there was nothing there. But the whisper came again, closer this time. ‘Sarah.’ I felt a cold hand on my shoulder. I jumped up, heart pounding, and ran to the mirror. Behind me, reflected in the glass, was a boy with pale skin and dark eyes, standing just over my shoulder. He smiled, but it was not a kind smile.

I started to see them more clearly after that. Aldous would appear in my peripheral vision, always serious, always watching. Beatrice would stand in the kitchen, her hands folded, her face sorrowful. The children – Thomas and Clara – would giggle from the hallways, their voices like dried leaves rustling. They wanted something, but I didn’t know what.

One night, I couldn’t sleep. I walked downstairs to get some water, and I saw them all gathered in the living room. They were standing in a semicircle, facing the fireplace, their shapes translucent and flickering like a dying flame. Aldous turned his head, and his eyes met mine. He didn’t speak, but he pointed to the mantelpiece, where an old box sat – a box I had never noticed before. I approached it, and as I touched the lid, the room grew colder. I opened it, and inside was a faded photograph of a family – a man, a woman, and two children. They were dressed in old-fashioned clothes, their expressions stern. And they were the exact mirror images of the spirits that haunted my house.

I realized then that they were not just watching me; they were waiting for me to free them. Aldous had been summoned that night, but the bond was incomplete. I had invited him into my life, but I had not given him a way out. In the folklore of the old world, that meant he was bound to me until I could release him.

Now, I keep the candle lit every night. I say the words Elena taught me, and I ask Aldous what he needs. He never answers, but I feel him grow stronger. And I know that as long as I hold this candle, they will never leave me. They are my keepers, and I am their keeper. We are bound together, a family of ghosts and a girl who still breathes, all of us waiting for the flame to finally die out.