Orlo and the Sneezy Candle — Every night, Orlo counted the bell strokes before rising from his velvet-lined coffin. He wanted the perfect midnight entrance: lid creak, cape sweep, eyebrow lift. Read the full story →
Every night, Orlo counted the bell strokes before rising from his velvet-lined coffin. He wanted the perfect midnight entrance: lid creak, cape sweep, eyebrow lift. The crypt smelled of warm wax and dusty stone, and the two tall candles always flickered right on cue—until one night, a fuzzy candle-moth tumbled from the left flame and sneezed soot onto his collar.
Because of that, Orlo missed the twelfth bell. Because of that, he practiced again, and again, while the moth sneezed at every “Good evening.” His boots tapped, his coffin hinges groaned, and his smile got tighter than a jar lid. “Bless you,” Orlo said at last, very carefully.
The moth hiccupped, settled on his collar, and stopped sneezing. Finally, Orlo rose on the next bell with perfect patience, one tiny wing bowing beside his chin. If you spot the candle nearest his shoulder, keep watch—Orlo may be waiting for one more achoo before he begins.
