Lamps.

I love lamps.

Mom says that our lamp, a tall, black, family heirloom, was created by a village Elder whom was secretly enmagiced with the power of the Sun as a young man. He didn’t dare tell anyone except family, and even then he made them swear an oath not to tell.

I’ve spent years trying to figure out how this magical lamp works, because it doesn’t plug into the wall like any other lamp.

Eventually, I realized that it sends up a hole in the Earth and sucks in sunlight. It then cools the sunlight but keeps the light which fills the cylinder it’s in and appears as a normal lamp.

It’s not a normal lamp.

It’s a magic lamp.

Our magic lamp.