One rainy night, in the darkness of his abode, an elder lit a candle. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in the ink, wiping excess off before beginning his task. Now, this is all well and good, but the for now the story focuses on the candle. She was very proud of being lit, and her flame licked at the air in a merry dance. In her excitement, the glow shone enough for the man to use only her in the writing. After a while, a cold draft wafted by, softly at first, but growing in strength. Soon the candle's flame began to waver. At first she didn't much notice, but then it started to flicker, making it very hard for the man to see. He paused what he was doing and stood, frightening the candle. She tried not to imagine what he would do, but failed miserably, scaring herself even more. To her surprise, he walked over to the window, closing it until only tiny wisps of air could slip through. Time went by, and the heat melted her wax. It hurt, but she knew it was worth it. The man worked long into the night, pausing occasionally to sip on some tea. Eventually only a bit of her wax and wick were left, and her flame dimmed so that the man needed another candle. She watched as he struggled to light it, surprised at the stubbornness of the candle. "Why won't you let him light you?" She asked, puzzled by the matter. "A better question would be why did you let him light you? Look at yourself. You're nearly melted. Your wax is wet and puddled, and your wick is short and charred. Plus you look to be in pain. Shame too. I'd never let that old man ruin my finely shaped wax, and expensive wick." He scoffed. She didn't answer, instead quietly watching as the man moved closer to her and continued his feverish writing, bending close to the paper in the dimness. Hours later, as the moon began its descent, the man laid his pen down and blew out the candle, leaving her to watch the stars out the window. "I'd love to be a star. They shine so bright, and make so many people's lives better. Wouldn't it be lovely to help so many, and share so much light?" She sighed and spent the rest of the night imagining life as a star. Next morning, as the sun was rising, she heard a commotion somewhere in the building. Moments later the man dashed into the room, looking quite disheveled, but excited. He lit the little candle again, and the last of her wick was used up. Then, gently moving her to the paper, he pressed her down with an odd little tool. Picking up the paper and blowing on her, he ran out the door. Down the street he hurried, drawing the eyes of passersby all along the way. Seeing that he had such attention, he waved the paper and shouted, "I've finished! If has been done!" The people cheered, waving as he passed. One young man even lifted up a small child on his shoulders. At last the man reached a large stone building. He waved the paper at the guards, and the let him through. "Bless ya sir." One of them called, waving him through. He smiled but kept on, wheezing for breath. Finally he made it to his destination, for he stopped in front of a large, ornate door. Well, he paused, knocking excitedly before bursting in. "Sire, I bring the finished copy!" He shouted, startling a guard who stood at attention near a large throne. "Councillor, do show me your masterpiece." Said the gentleman upon the throne, standing and approaching the man. "Your Lordship." Muttered the man, bowing his head respectfully. "I do hope it is to your approval." The gentleman smiled kindly and put a hand on the councillor's shoulder. "You always do fine work, my good man." The candle (who was now, as you've probably noticed, a wax seal) held tight as she was handed to the gentleman, but relaxed in his firm grasp. He carried her out to a large place outside, where she saw thousands of people waiting. "Citizens of Truth, I have here a paper upon which rests the very heart of our country." He waited for complete silence before reading it. "'Upon the authority of our Lord, if is hereby declared that we shall be a country eternally bound by these principles. Truth, Love, and Peace. May each citizen do his best to uphold these principles. May we ever attribute the provision and protection of our great country the One who have us the ability to upkeep it. In the blessed name of our dear Lord and Saviour, our country is now to be called Truth.'" When the man stopped reading, everything was silent for a moment. Then a cheer started up, and another, until the whole city was echoing with the celebration of its people. The seal, who was happy just to be a small part of such good, was carried by the gentleman to a place where all could read and admire the foundation of the land. She, being an important part of the document, was kept safe inside a glass covering. Sheltered there from any and all harm, she happily stayed for all of eternity. Many saw the seal, and admired the detailed "T" marked on her, but few thought of the wax used. She didn't mind. It was wonderful just to be a part of such a beautiful story.
