Challenge: Marion suggested a story about a candle, this is it.

Candlewick Dreams

A glow in the dark, coming closer, burning brighter. I’d shuffle up a bit on the dressing table but there are too many of us, crammed together on an assortment of plates, dishes, tea - light holders and platters. And still she brings more. Christmas was a nightmare. Instead of her usual mixture of pastels and patterns - I‘m proud to say I‘m a purple and aqua twisty affair - I had to budge up to make way for the tacky gold and silver ones, with crinkled pieces of ribbon tied loosely around them, as though they were too shy to be seen in all their glory. A little bit of a nod in the direction of the snooty thin one next to me soon rid us of it. As the ribbon burnt and shrivelled, she doused it with water from her gym bottle. It must have sensed it would never be lit again; it’s lip drooped, it’s wick bowed, as she swept it out of the bedroom. It was relegated to the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, the place where all old candles go to die.
She returned to re-arrange us again. She never seemed to think it odd, why she had to do this. I guess she believed she decided where we all stood, but of course, we all pushed and shoved our way to the front or the middle or the sides, fighting for position depending on her mood. Reading was accompanied by a solitary, scented job - usually the cinnamon and apple dip-dyed effect terracotta-to-saffron coloured square block. Don’t know what she sees in it, really. It’s quite ugly. Make-up application required all of us, we never bothered to fight over that one. But when she was er …let’s see, how can I put this delicately … entertaining …well, pandemonium! Stampede! Total complete bitching! What can I say? It’s not like we get out much, is it? A candle needs to have something to look forward to, doesn’t it? And being chosen to adorn the bedside cabinet exclusively - well, that’s my idea of heaven!