An idea came to my head, going paragraph for paragraph until a full short story is made. I’ll go first;

Dancing in flame; or whatever.

Somewhere in the center of the world lives a broken flame. Cracking vigorously as his embers slowly stay lit. “It’s cold, I can no longer provide heat. I can no longer do my job as a candle.” Wax slowly hardening against whatever is left on his burnt wick. A gust of wind barely breathing against what’s left refused to let off, leaving open the window. Persuading the rest of the wind to put the house through a cold darkness.

I’m tagging;

John Watson - Horror Author