The Candle
It starts in the east. This morning, the sun feels feverish, hesitant, he starts the day a little off balance, behind him a trail of firebrands and thin bursts of fire trace his wake
Like a candle in a lukewarm breath, he hesitates until noon, in the firmament he seems for a moment to slip… Uneasiness, poor earthlings who, lifting their noses to the sky, tremble to see their star in so much pain.
Take a selfie, put a video on youtube, no one is left behind, the servers are spinning, the phones are heating ; or worry, the president of the United States announces a curfew, the children cry and their mothers rush inside.
Humanity spends all day in the same anguish as every other animal, but what's going on, what's going on ? The sun coughs, the Queen of England packs her things, there is not much time left until the end.
The dying star appears extinguished but no, its flame picks up bright as ever, phew ! Relief, the day is coming to an end, all’s well that ends well, things are back to normal, but the Queen of England turns off the light on her way out.
All is well, the fear is coming to an end, the president of the united states announces that he knew all along, him, that it was « fake news », the Prince is now a hero, hurricanes ravage the coasts, the sea level keeps rising, but the fear is forgotten, all is well.
He is in the west now. I drink pastis on the terrace, contemplating the passage of the star behind the mountains… Pow ! like a soap bubble, a swarm of orange stars briefly ignites the sky.
Then, a horrified clamour.
Then, night.
