Wonderland and The Candle Man

The story of the Vanilla Poundcake

Burning bright in the arms of midnight.
The sweet scent of lovers long lost.
Moments new, springing into life.
Aromatic powerful passions lingering in air warm. 

Deliciously delicate healing beacons of light glisten. 

In the hands of time, wings wild bloom.

The birth of fragrant dreams, exploding in unseen kingdoms.

Humanity alight, in fireworks bright.

A spark burning furiously for humanity, every day and night.


The Magic house stands deceptively normal amongst all other gentrified lookalikes. No one suspects anything unusually abnormal behind its faćade of normality, however, the truth unfolds beyond ink on these pages. Mysteries, unravelling cheekily unprovoked. The Candleman crosses unsuspecting paths on a day otherwise perturbed. 

Akimbo beneath the sparkling sunlight, the Candleman unusually drowsy at midday succumbs to a slumber unwarranted. His back door, carelessly wide open as his eyes flutter into a world he never imagined possible. The grass vibrant green, crumbles under his slight weight. His snoring gentle, rudely disturbed by a buzzing insistent. The Candleman, sleepily flaps his fingers at the pest, irritating. Unsuccessful, of course, he bolts upright to confront his pesky intruder, to only be stared in the face by what he supposes is a bee with magnificent purple butterfly wings. The Candleman, convinced that he is either in a dream lucid or trapped in wicked trickery of the devil. Neither making sense much. 

Before his brown eyes, is a glorious Japanese garden. Trickling amongst the lush greenness, a stream, sparkling crystal clear carves a path exquisite. A proud bridge ancient framing the beautiful scene. Within his grasp, stands a masterpiece. A grand, cherry tree. Her all knowing wisdom an electric live wire, humming a melody historical. The crisp air, freshly clean. Singing birds chirp, faintly in the distance. The Magic house nowhere in sight. Bedazzled, the Candleman, shakes himself unable to believe his eyes in awe. He is thrust into this surreal reality by an enormous fluffy white wolf, in a crumbled yellow waistcoat and matching bow tie, rushing anxiously past him. His pocket watch pounding loudly in his giant pink paws. His sharp teeth, gleaming gloriously in the sunlight. The snow white coat, milky soft. 

“I am so very late”, he grumbles to himself. 

The Candleman, confused in his state of deliriousness, begins to follow in the footsteps of the hasty huge wolf. 

“Mr Wolf, please wait up!” Shouts the Candleman after him. 

Bewildered the wolf stops abruptly, stares and then barks rapidly. 

“It’s Sir Toto. And I am so very, very, very late. I cannot chitchat”. 

With a flash of light, he vanishes into thin air. Just like that. The Candleman’s words dying in his mouth. He coughs a little, choking on his shock as he aimlessly begins to stalks the grounds, unsure of what now. His waiting short lived as he finds himself being called by what appears to be a water fountain. However, at closer inspection, it is not an average water fountain at all. It is, well, a wax fountain. Beads of intricate wax, explodes into colourful droplets, singing quietly before they die in solid clumps. 

“Welcome, Mr Candleman. We’ve been waiting long for you.” Announces, a voice brisk brittle.  

The Candleman, clears his throat, throbbing. Hiding his amazement, he mumbles. 

“It’s good to meet you, Sir. But where am I?”

The voice crackles cooly. Then breaks into a thunderous laughter. Hiccuping, eventually, his cackling concluding. The Candleman, shifting uncomfortably on tired feet.

“You are certainly funny, Candleman. You are where you are supposed to be.” 

The Candleman, willing himself to find a quick retort before another mishap occurs. Unfortunately, his luck is out of sync today because the wax fountain already a solid statue frozen. Predictably, nothing today would fit in a neat puzzle. After some helpless exploring, the Candleman stumbles upon a rabbit hole, which he narrowly misses falling head first into. Proud of avoiding his near miss, he lets a sigh of relief. His joy short lived. From evidently nowhere, a vanilla cupcake with heavenly aroma lands in his open palm. It’s smooth cream, deliberately detailed in design. The folds of the velvet softness neatly arranged. 

“Eat me.” It whispers. 

Without thinking the Candleman pops it whole into his mouth. The precious sweetness, clinging to his greedy tongue. For what happens next, even the Candleman, did not expect. As soon as the guilty cupcake hits his insides, a cheeky laughter gurgles in his stomach. 

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have, Mr Candleman. Oh no!” Mocks a small voice inside. 

Before he can do anything to save himself, the Candleman begins to heat up internally. The burning flames scorching his bones brutally. Fortunately, the pain doesn’t last long because instead, he combusts into many little rainbow sparkles to only disappear into the raging furnace. The teasing flames licking the tiny rabbit hole. The sweet scent of vanilla hangs in the air. 

“By the way, my name is Vanilla Poundcake.” Murmurs the small voice again. 

Find out more with https://www.youmeandemilio.com/. Where humanity comes to life in velvet magic of wax artistry. Light a candle for the spirit of humanity with us. With each burning candle, we will send love, light and magic into the world. For more of The Candlemans spell binding adventure, please watch this space for his next steps. 

Love. Light. Hope. 
Burning as one collective. 


Begin your story here. 


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