Light a candle for me. Please.

The candle light was bright that night as the curtains flapped
around in the wind like a dolphin caught in a fishing net. My house was
falling apart - only the bricks and mortar held it together. The
powercut had been raging for several hours and the fire was running low
on wood. I toyed with the idea of going to bed but I just had to get
finished that article for the paper. The deadline was already overdue
and I knew another missed deadline was not an option. If the light
failed, I was a metaphorical dead man.
I played with the style. Pulled the words about. Used all my tricks.
But time was running away the last embers of the fire and the candles
would provide only so much more light.
Half an hour later, the fire burned out. I struck a match and lit the
candles. They were my last hope. But then something I hadn't expected
happened and my life was to change forever.
In the flash of the match appeared a rotating swastika, and as it
spinned around, I heard the voice of Charles Darwin. I was confused. I
knew instinctively it was his voice even though he had died long before
the birth of recorded sound.
He said to me: "gather together the finest minds in America. I have new
theories."
With this he vanished.
Well, you can imagine how I felt. I cracked open another bottle of beer
and tried my best to ignore the distraction.
The candle blew out, so I struck another match. This time, in the spark
I saw the SS symbol rotating, and out of the symbol appeared another
face, this time the face of Adam Smith, the famous economist.
Smith said to me, "I have new theories. Gather together the finest
minds in England. Let's make it happen." But then he was gone.
Quite confused was I at this. Where were all these dead men coming from
and what was the Nazi connection?
I didn't have the time to contemplate all this - the article was far
more important. I put it all down to an overactive imagination and
ploughed on with my work.
But then the candle went out again. I paused before restriking the
match. What would happen this time? Regardless of my apprehension, I
had to relight the candle, so I struck the match. I don't know what
there was in the flash and sparkle of the light, as I had closed my
eyes this time. As I reopened them, everything was calm and with some
relief, I lit the candle and continued working.
With no more disruptions, I finished my article and put away my
work.
It was early morning, the lights were still out and the storm still
raged. I should have gone to bed at this point but something pulled me
back to that box of matches. What did it mean? I played with the box,
tipped out all the matches and examined them one by one. I sat there
for about half an hour, deciding whether to light one.
It was the approaching dawn that finally gave me the courage to strike
one alight. As it flickered, I kept my eyes open and watched it flare
up. The sparking flame grew larger; much larger. The ball of fire at
the tip of the match grew to the size of a football. I was too scared
of burning down the house to drop the match on the floor. Fortunately
the flame stayed above my hand and did not burn me. I tried to blow it
out but the air fanned it into an even bigger inferno.
I moved across the room to the fireplace to drop it into safety but
before I could get there the ball of flame detached itself from the
match and slowly levitated into the air where it stayed.
Then the ball took on the appearance of a head, and the flames grew
downwards into a body. It was Adolf Hitler.
"What are you doing in my room?" I demanded, trying to keep my
cool.
Not speaking German, I didn't understand his reply but he was angry. I
rushed to the kitchen to get water. There was a bucket there full of
water where the roof had been leaking. Reaching it, I threw the
contents at Hitler, who had followed me into the room. It made little
difference. The heat of the flame was intense and the water turned to
steam before it could reach the body.
"What do you want?!" I cried. Now he replied in English.
"I want this time and place as my own."
With these words his image collapsed and the flames fell to the floor,
setting the room on fire.
I was trapped. I screamed. There was nowhere for me to go and nobody
around to help me escape. Six million flames lapped at my feet, yet I
felt only slightly hot. Where was the pain?
Then it hit me. I was engulfed in pain and I screamed in agony. My face
disappeared and I expect I probably died at this point. I hope I did,
because even though I can't remember anything else after then, I
wouldn't like to have been alive for any length of time in that
fire.
Let me tell you, dying in such horrific circumstances certainly widens
your horizons. Prior to that night, I'd never really contemplated death
much. After that, it was an ever present topic of conversation.