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Hopefullwriter
1 day agoIn a quiet village nestled between two mountains, lived an old man named Elior, known to all as the lantern maker. His shop was the warmest place in town — a tiny, cluttered room glowing with hanging lanterns of every size and color, each one flickering like it held a heartbeat.
People swore Elior’s lanterns never burned out, even in the fiercest winds. Some said he whispered secrets into the flames as he lit them. Others claimed they kept nightmares away.
One stormy night, a girl named Mira wandered into the shop. Her eyes were red from crying, and she clutched a broken lantern in her arms — a gift from her late mother. Elior, without a word, motioned for her to sit.
As he worked on the lantern, Mira asked softly, "Why do your lanterns never go out?"
Elior smiled, not looking up. “Because they carry something more than fire.”
“What do you mean?”
He finished reattaching the glass and turned to her. “Every lantern I make holds a memory — someone’s joy, grief, or love. The light comes from that.”
He placed a hand gently on Mira’s lantern. “This one has your mother’s love in it. That kind of flame never dies.”
When he lit it, the glow was unlike any other — soft, golden, and steady. Mira gasped as a faint outline of her mother’s face shimmered in the reflection, smiling.
From that day forward, Mira returned often, learning to craft lanterns herself. Years later, when Elior passed, it was her lanterns that lit the entire village during the mourning, each one flickering with memories — of the old man who taught them how to find light, even in the darkest places.please like and comments because it's not easy to write this also follow for the next story