CABB’S
september 25th challenge, 2025
FAMOUS FIRST OR
LAST WORDS
THE CANDLE FLICKERS
by JoAnn Baca
The polished wood looked incongruous. Father’s desktop had never been that clean. Too many items had always been piled upon it for anyone, even the most dedicated duster, to make inroads. The fact that it now was gleaming in the candlelight and free of the accumulation of years spoke louder than his actual absence: Father was gone.
“You didn’t have to do it,” Vincent murmured to a clearly distraught Mary.
“I’d been threatening to for years. It needed a good cleaning.” She sniffed, wiped her nose with an embroidered handkerchief, and added, “Now it’s ready for someone else.”
He nodded. Letting a good piece of furniture remain unused was not an option. There were constant demands for the basics – bed frames, chests of drawers… desks. And so Father’s domain had been stripped, most of the furnishings already redistributed according to need. His books had been shelved in the library. The chessboard was in Samantha’s chamber, a benefit newly acquired upon her attaining her majority. Kipper had requested the bust of Shakespeare; he’d become quite the scholar of the Bard’s plays after that rocky introduction to Romeo and Juliet so many years ago. Many had taken small items as remembrances even when no specific need was being addressed – his bibelots and what-nots were now visible in nearly every corner Below. The few remaining furnishings would be moved later, once others’ chambers were rearranged to accommodate the additions.
Only Father’s chamber itself had not been claimed. It was large – far larger than any other individual’s abode – and by unspoken agreement, no one had requested it. The Council decided to assign it to the next family from Above that needed sanctuary. It could hold several beds, with enough room for a small sitting area. It would be adjacent to the library, of course, but that was of no concern. No one would violate the privacy of the new occupants.
Vincent hugged Mary and the latter shuffled out, wiping her eyes. He stood for a moment longer, his gaze taking in the emptiness, an echo of his own heart.
Sighing, he picked up the one remaining candle and followed in Mary’s footsteps. At the entrance, he turned for one last look into the chamber that had held the man and memories that had shaped his life.
The candle flickered and went out.
Original photo taken by a fan while visiting the B&B set of Father’s Chamber
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JoAnn my studio apartment looks as bad as Father’s chamber….my friend said it was packed with books cds Beauty and the Beast items (even a Disney Beauty and the Beast bedsheet for my twin) but she said if I don’t do anything as I keep scribbling notes everywhere on notepads, it’s going to have to wait til I transistion. This story reminds me of her comments. I can just see this happening. Father and I are both collectors. My friend would be Mary when it’s time. I like how people kept items to remember Father by. Samantha getting the chess set, perfect. I liked how Father’s death is compared to the candle flickering and going out. We are all just candles that light up for a brief moment and then…poof… we leave this place and our souls rest in the spiritual realm, then reincarnate and travel on. Thank you for this bittersweet story. Now I got to wipe my eyes.
Aww love this little story.
All good things must come to and end, and I’m sure father left gracefully with a book under his arm of course 🙂
JoAnn, this is such a sensitive and respectful depiction of the inescapable passing of time and its effects on those who must inevitably deal with it at various stages of life. I especially love stories — like yours — when the tunnel world becomes real and its people become so relatable. Thank you for sharing this with us!
This is a moving story, depicting a moment that no one can escape. Transience is ever-present. I imagine that the spirit of the Father hovers over and watches over the inhabitants of the tunnels.
It is hard to think of Father being gone. Such a presence! But life must go on, and there are practicalities to life Below that cannot be ignored. It is good to know that remembrances of Father will be everywhere, like echoes of his voice down the Tunnels. Having lost both of my parents in the last few years, I feel Vincent’s grief viscerally, at the same time the sense of gratitude for a life well-lived, for a community in sorrow but still prepared to continue on. This touched me deeply.
This one made my heart clinch up. It’s hard to imagine the tunnels without Father, and of course I started to tear up thinking of … well … how much those I’ve met and come to love in the Tunnels we’ve created ourselves mean to me. Your story touched me and will stay with me and reminded me to make sure I tell those I love, respect, and enjoy that I have those feelings. So let me say here, in this venue, that for many years, your stories have delighted me and made me think and sometimes cry – and very often swoon. Thank you, JoAnn, for this story and for everything!