A CANDLE IN THE FOREST

    She heard voices from the child's room.
    She whispered at the door, "Rebecca, who is there?"
    "She says that she is a sprite, Mother,"  the child whispered back, " a kind of a fairy.  She wants the candle."
    She opened the door to the child's room.
    Rebecca stood by the black window with the candle in her hand.  The sprite sat cross-legged in the meadow full of flowers that was the comforter on the child's bed.
    "Tell me..." said Rebecca's mother.
    "I found it," said the child.
    "She stole it!" said the sprite.
    "Tell me..."
    The candle quavered in the soft wind of the child's breath as she spoke.
    "My thoughts led me there, Mother - to the dark forest.  I got lost.  I didn't know how to get home again.  Bears and owls and spiders were there.  I was frightened."
    Rebecca's mother sat amongst the flowers and motioned for Rebecca to sit beside her.
    "Tell me..." she said.
    "And then I found the candle," said the child.
    "It is mine!" declared the sprite.  "I need it to get back!"
    "Back to where?" said Rebecca's mother.  "Tell me..."
    "Back to my family," said the sprite.  "Back to my father.  Tomorrow is his birthday.  That is why I came to the forest - to collect stories for his birthday.  For a present."
    "Did you find stories for your father?" asked Rebecca.
    "The bear told me a story," said the sprite,  "and the owl.  The spider too.  But I couldn't take the stories home.  The candle that I lit to mark the way - the candle was gone."
    "I took it," said the child.  "But..."
    "But I saw it moving," said the sprite.  "I saw it moving in the trees - gone and there again, gone and there again."
    "It was taking me home," said Rebecca.
    "And I followed," said the sprite.
    "I see," said Rebecca's mother.  "Put the candle on the table, Rebecca, and I will tell you both a story.  This is a story for you, my daughter, because you found your way home.  This is a story for you, my little friend, to say thank you for leaving a candle to show her the way."

This is the story that Rebecca's mother told:
    A child once followed her thoughts into the dark forest and became lost.
    She came upon a bear and an owl and a spider there in the middle of the forest.  They were sitting around a small twig fire.  The bear was talking - telling a story.  The owl and the spider nodded and smiled as the bear's words lumbered about the fire.
    When the bear finished his story, the child heard a tiny voice say:  "Now you, Spider!  You tell us a story!"
    For the first time, the child noticed the small sprite sitting in the bear's furry shadow.  It was the sprite who had spoken.
    The spider did tell a story, spinning his words into a web that caught fire light and star light and wind song in it's lines and crossings.
    The child was frightened of bears and owls - and spiders most of all.  But she found courage in the web of the spider's story.  When the spider was finished, the child spoke.
    "If you will help me find my way home," she said,  "I will tell you a story..."
    The bear carried the child on his shoulders.  The spider carried the sprite.  High above, sliding between the stars and the tree tops, the owl called to them:  "This way!  This way!"
    And so they brought the child home.  They crowded together in the meadow full of flowers that was the comforter on the child's bed, and she told them a story.
    It started like this:  "She heard voices from the child's room..."

    "Oh, yes!" said Rebecca.  "I know that story!"
    "Yes!  Yes!" said the sprite.  "I have heard it, too!"
    "Well, there you have it, my little friend," said Rebecca's mother.  "Another story to take to your father for his birthday."
    "But I don't know the way," said the sprite.
   "That's easy," said Rebecca's mother.  "The candle is the way.  Just blow it out."
    "Just blow it out?" said the sprite.
    "And in the blowing out you will be home..."
    "Just blow it out?"
    "Yes," said Rebecca's mother.
    The sprite looked at Rebecca.
    "It's okay," said the child.  "I don't need it any more.  I am home now."
    "But... you could come with me," said the sprite.  "You could come to the party."
    Rebecca was quiet for a long moment.
    "Could I do that, Mother?" she asked at last.  "Could I go with her to the party?"
    "Of course," said her mother.  "Light a candle when you get there and blow it out when you want to come home again.  It's as simple as that."
    "Will you be lonely if I go?" the child asked.
    "No," said her mother.  "I will be fine.  Go if you wish.  I will be here when you come back."
    "I will go then," said Rebecca.  And to the tiny sprite:  "I will go with you."
    The sprite smiled and put her hand in the child's hand.  Then she bent over and blew out the candle.
 

RICHARD THOMPSONTHE STORY VINE