Light and Dark

The light played magnificent patterns on the wall as it was refracted by the diamond set amongst the gleaming band of gold. A man, old and weathered, was bent over the precious ring. He caressed it gently as a smile began to crack the stony expression that was ever present in times of concentration. The candle on the old, battered wooden desk flickered as a moth flew just too close to the flame, and the patterns on the wall shifted, ever so slightly. The room around the border set by candle light was so cast in shadow, that the darkness felt as if it could be cut with a blade. The candle flickered again, and the lights danced again, only to come back to their starting position, as dancers practicing the same move, time and again. There was a near silent brush of cloth upon cloth, and a quiet creaking from the stool as the old man stood slowly. After a moment the man sat down, setting an ornate, lacquered wooden box on the rough-hewn table top. He opened this box slowly, almost reverently; the well-oiled hinges making not a single sound. Once the box was opened, the old man set the shining new ring into the cushioned interior of the box. He took one last look at his masterpiece before shutting the box with a gentle click, and setting it off on the far side of the desk; next to the wrought-iron candle stick. Ever so slowly, the man stood up and made his way into the deepest part of the shadows. As he lay down in his bed, the candle sputtered in its socket for a time. After putting himself into a gentle repose, every line, every muscle, every feature on his face calmed, the man was unafraid. With one last sputter of oily, black smoke, the candle burned out just as he took his last breath. Then there was darkness.