The Flame Keeper

Chapter 2

"Ahhhhhhhh—" I shot up and banged my head against the broken headboard that groaned painfully as I snapped it back into place. Beads of cold sweat trickled down my forehead and I spun left and right, my eyes wildly darting around. I blinked, clutching my wrinkled sheets. I was in my room, on my grubby bed that creaked every time I shifted. Just that stupid dream, I sighed. I might as well get up while I'm at it.

I grudgingly pushed myself off my bed, swinging my legs over the side of the mattress into my shoes. I could hear the pat, pat, pat of the rain gently tapping against the roof, and I looked out the window. The sun had started to peek over the dark rain clouds, and the light that shone through the window wasn't even remotely blinding.

I slid my arms down the sleeves of my wrinkled uniform, a bit tight on me but still wearable. My pants fit snugly, though, as I slipped them on. Oversized a few years ago, now, they were just right.

I took a deep breath, smoothing my brown mop of ruffled hair. Today was a new day—no more slip-ups.

I flexed my fingers, letting the light bronze reveal peach undertones under the sun's streaming rays as I carefully turned the doorknob. The door swung open, and I stepped into the dim hallway, patches of light shining through the window above the staircase.

The hallway was quiet, and only the occasional snore broke the silence—it looked like everyone but me was a sound sleeper. It was my eighty-eighth, no, eighty-ninth day on the job. Dave had told me to "have some fun with it" when he first assigned the job to me, but I didn't know what fun there was to be had until recently.

I took a cautious step and winced as the floor groaned painfully loud, a strained cre-e-e-ek that made my ears scream for mercy. The wooden boards felt like ice to my feet in my paper-thin shoes, but I was used to it. Everyone was.

Slowly approaching the door next to mine, I pushed it open and slipped in. Benjamin was snoring softly, mumbling about unicorns or something. His normally tidy dark hair was a tangled mess, unruly strands meshed together like a thick forest. Perhaps I won't yank the covers right off him today, I chuckled to myself.

By the time everyone was up, and lively banter filled the kitchen downstairs, I had gotten my usual pillow in the face, the "just five more minutes," but surprisingly no major resistance.

I plucked a lone feather out of my hair and examined it. It wasn't a feather really, but rather a flimsy stick with hairs attached to it. I vaguely remember Dave telling us that we would have to sell some of our belongings, which would explain the "new" pillows we had gotten a few weeks ago.

The pillows from the spare rooms hadn't been exchanged, however; as Dave said, they were for any guests. Rarely was there anyone who stayed though. Dave had tried to convert the restaurant into something of a tavern/bed and breakfast after the success of the nearby Traveler's Inn, but alas, people have yet to come.

I let go of the feather and watched it slowly drift down, landing gracefully on the dusty floorboards. I sighed, it was time for work.

I stepped gingerly down the stairs, passing by the small living room where the fireplace cast red and orange shadows on the walls. I had time and time again spent nights there when I couldn't sleep, just staring at the entrancing flames that danced gracefully on a wooden stage.

Next to the fireplace stood a dusty bookshelf, filled to the brim with all sorts of literature. Most of it was just manuals for operating the generator, though. But on the cluttered bottom shelf, hidden behind a stack of operating manuals was The Complete History of Aterra.

I devoured it, spending my nights flipping through the yellowed pages and exploring stories that it had hidden from me for so long. It wrote in detail the beginnings of the country to the recent advancements in hydro power to the recent addition of spark power to the capital. I had finished the novel—it seemed more like one than a history book—ages ago, but I enjoyed rereading it once in a while.