Soul Fire
Authors: Aprille Legacy
The Soul Trilogy #1
Soul Fire
Cover design by E.J Duykers, R.A Dutton and L.C Ellis
T
his is a work offiction.Allcharacters are fictitious.
Any resemblance toanypersons livingor deceased is
coincidental.
For those who wouldn’t let me give up and drove this
dream. For all the Goodreaders who read and liked this
work online before I’d ever thought of publishing.
presence and taught me how to make a cup of tea.
thin, because there are ups and downs in every friendship.
For anyone who dares to dream.
~Chapter One~“Rose!” My eyes snapped open at the exact moment my
chin slipped off of my hand. I caught myself from
slamming into the desk, just in time to hear Mr Burgess
sigh loudly. “Again, Rose? Do I need to talk to your
mother?”
“No, sir,” I said quickly. Sleeping in class was my
mother’s idea of committing a crime.
Mr Burgess turned to the board, droning about
something I was supposed to be paying attention to. I
yawned, bored already.
In my hometown of Ar Cena, nothing was out of the
ordinary. Nestled in-between two hills, in a tiny, spring
fed valley, the biggest thing to happen was the annual
agricultural festival.
“I need that assignment handed up as well,” Mr Burgess
levelled a gaze at me that I pointedly avoided. “It was due
two weeks ago.”
“Sorry, I was in the city.” I replied lamely, staring out
the window again. He let the non-excuse go, though he
sighed as he turned back to the front of the class.
I had in fact been at the river again, watching the birds
glide in the sky and wishing that I could join them.
Wanting to soar as one of them, knowing that I wasn’t
going to be stuck here in this town forever. To know that
one day I would be different… that I would be free.
I dragged myself from class to class, the other students
ignoring me. I longed for the bell that would signal the
end of this hellish prison sentence, so that I might make it
back to my car and drive towards the river, catching a few
moments of peace with my book and to breathe in the
fresh valley air and the silence that came with it.
By the time I reached my final class of the day, I was
more than ready to go. I sat next to the window that was
permanently open, feeling the breeze on my face,
knowing that my sentence would soon be served.
I propped my feet up on the chair next to me, feeling so
comfortable that I was in danger of snoozing again. My
eyes raked the tree line, searching for something,
anything, to break the monotony of everyday school life.
It was then I noticed him watching me.
A man stood just behind the line of trees. He leant
easily against one of the trunks, dark hair falling into his
eyes. I shivered as his gaze fell on me and our eyes met.
The bell rang and I turned instinctively towards the
door. By the time I looked back, the man was gone and my
mind had already given him up as a figment of my
imagination.
I grabbed my bag and fled for the doorway, out of my
seat before anyone else was. Everyone ignored the
teacher’s feeble bleats for everyone to stay seated, his
voice lost in the gabble of twenty teenagers at the end of a
school day.
Once in the parking lot I headed for my car, and it was
as I neared my little white Hyundai that I noticed the
school jerks eyeing me off on the path; something about
their shifty eyes and muffled giggles gave them away. In
my peripheral vision I noticed someone seated in the car
in the lot behind mine and sighed. I would have to wait
for them to reverse and that would mean waiting for
someone – a student driver at that - to do a thousandpoint turn.
It was only as I unlocked the driver’s door and slid into
my seat that I realised the other driver would have had
plenty of time to move. It was only after I had turned on
the ignition and started reversing that the car behind me
did the same. I suddenly realised the intent of their
‘prank’.
Honestly, this was the extent of their intelligence.
I wound down the window.
“Seriously?” I asked them incredulously.
They burst into fits of laughter. I rolled my eyes but I
could feel my temper beginning to prickle. I grit my teeth,
and stamped on the accelerator. My car shot backwards,
the car behind me mimicking me, forcing me to stop. I
still didn’t have enough room to do a three point turn, so I
was trapped.
The prickle increased to an itch. I felt my foot press
down again and this time I had no intention of braking. I
watched in the rear-view mirror as the driver of the car
opposite realised what I planned to do, his eyes widening a
second before the impact. My car hit his, shattering both
of our brake lights and giving him well earned whiplash. I
saw his frightened eyes glance into his mirror, straight
into mine, and I couldn’t resist giving him a smile and
thumbs up. I spun the wheel and drove out of the parking
lot, leaving a damaged car and boys with damaged egos
behind me.
I swung the door of my house open, my car parked
haphazardly behind me in the drive. I’d been in such a bad
mood on the drive home that I’d decided not to go to the
river at all.
I ignored her, pounding up the stairs to the roof; once I
was there I was free. She wouldn’t follow me up, and I was
in no mood for probing questions tonight.
“Don’t ignore me, Rose.”
She must’ve glanced out of the window then, at my car.
“Rose! What the hell happened to your car?”
I ignored this too, though shame clenched my stomach
I shared many things with my mother; intense green
eyes, long brown hair, a house and exactly the same
amount of patience; none. This resulted in us locking
horns frequently, but more often with other members of
the town.
I reached my room, the attic of the house. I had thrown
the windows wide this morning so fresh air cleansed the
room, carrying with it the sweet scent of summer. I
dumped my bag on the floor and ran towards the open
window. I jumped onto the sill and slid onto the ledge,
reaching up to grab the destroyed gutter hanging limply
from the roof, prayed it wouldn’t dump me onto the
ground two storeys below and pulled myself onto the
shingles. The roof didn’t slope as steeply as other houses,
so I was able to lie on my back and watch the sky. I basked
in the afternoon rays of the sun, the tension of the day
melting away. I was home.
I woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. I was still on
the roof, but I wasn’t worried; this happened more often
than one might think. The warm summer air combined
with the surprisingly comfortable roof tiles usually lulled
me to sleep.
I drew my knees to my chest, hugging them in tight. In
the distance I could hear traffic, which usually meant it
was about six in the morning. Instead of the spectacular
hues of orange and pink the sun normally displayed at
sunset, grey light was slowly spilling over the township. It
was almost as if the sun was saying ‘well, no one is going
to be awake to watch it anyway. Surely I can get away
with not putting on a light show this morning.’
“I feel you.” I told the sun, lying back down on the dew
covered roof and throwing my arm over my eyes. To
anyone watching (as absurd as sleeping on a roof may be),
it would look as though I didn’t have a care in the world.
But past my old cubby house in the backyard, and over
the rapidly deteriorating fence, I knew I had seen him
again.
The same man from yesterday, standing just within the
trees as though hiding.
I sat up again, slowly inching down the shingles and
back into my room. This time I closed the window firmly
and latched it for the first time in ages. I wasn’t happy
about him observing me from a distance so there was no
way I was coming back from school and finding him in my
closet or something.
I checked my clock – 6:54am. Great. I had about an
hour before school, which meant there was no way I was
going to get that assignment done for Burgess. As it was, I
only had time to have a quick shower and stuff a piece of
toast into my mouth as I climbed into my car.
Driving to school was rather terrifying. I had forgotten
about the broken tail lights which were now rendering my
car defectable, and of course my luck demanded that the
only cop car in Ar Cena was on patrol, and of course, it
drove past me.
I squeezed the steering wheel tight, keeping my eyes
ahead. I had a funny feeling that they were just waiting
for a nervous glance in their direction so that they could
pull me over.
The cop car slid past and I let out the breath I’d been
holding. I turned up my radio again and slumped in the
driver’s seat, one arm out the window. I knew Ar Cena
like the back of my hand. And whilst I was prone to road
rage, I had learnt that I couldn’t rage and swear in my
home town, after an embarrassing incident in which I
managed to call my grandmother a ‘fat lazy cow who got
her driver’s license out of a cereal box’. That’s about when
I stopped getting Christmas presents, and honestly, I don’t
blame her.
The school day passed quickly and I decided to skip
English, lest Mr Burgess make true on his promise to call
my mother about the absent assignment.
I pulled into our driveway and immediately noticed
that my mother’s car was missing. I sighed; she’d been
working later and later at the hospital recently - I was
starting to feel like an orphan. Usually I didn’t mind, but I
was in the mood to talk with someone with the same
mindset as me, the man in the woods weighing heavily on
my mind.
I let myself in using my key and slung my bag down on
the shoe stand. Out of habit, I scuffed my shoes on the
frayed rug that covered the floorboards, an act that my
mother had promised she would gut me for, but one that
she’d picked up herself without realising.
I meandered through the living room and switched on
the TV for some noise; I told myself it was for some
background noise, but I knew it was because I wanted it to
seem like there were more people in the house. A six pack
of beer and a note on the table caught my eye, and I
picked it up.
Please be a gooddaughter and cook dinner.Yes, you
can have a beer. Love,Mum.
I tore a bottle loose of its cardboard prison, twisting the
cap and listening for the satisfying crack. Since I’d turned
eighteen, Mum had been a lot more lenient with my
drinking than other mothers with daughters my age.
Mum’s advice was ‘I’d prefer you learnt about it under my
supervision rather than experimenting with others and
making a tosspot of yourself.’ Despite her reasoning, she’d
copped some pretty heavy criticism from her peers. She’d
promptly told them to bugger off.
I sipped the beer, wincing at the acrid taste on my
tongue as I headed for the kitchen to start dinner. School
always made me hungry, laughable considering I didn’t do
much. I peeled open the freezer, hoping against hope
there was still steak.
“Bingo,” I told the freezer frost triumphantly, sliding
two big, frozen steaks from its icy grasp.
I pulled a fry pan from the cupboard and lit the gas
stove, giving the lace curtains above it a half hearted tug
away from the blue flames. Mum and I had always cursed
whoever put those curtains there; as well as being a
bloody nuisance, they posed a fire hazard whenever we
cooked but we were too lazy to take them down. I drizzled
some oil into the pan and left it to heat, heading back into
the living room to check on the progress of whoever was
trying to win a large sum of money on a show whose
outcome had already been decided.
Now I’ll take the time to flashback about six months
ago.
“What is that!?” My mother and I had both staggered
into the hallway at the same time, wincing at the shrill
screeching of something on the ceiling.
“It’s the damn fire alarm,” she’d growled, eyeing it off,
one hand over one ear and the other hand steadying
herself on the wood panelling. “Pass me that broom will
you?”
I’d handed it over and then replaced my hands over my
ears.
Mum jabbed the broom handle at the fire alarm until
the plastic buckled and the beeping gurgled into nothing.
Now hanging limply from the ceiling like a dead bird, it
was utterly silent.
“Isn’t that illegal?” I’d ventured, watching it dangle.
Mum had shrugged, already heading back to bed.
“I’ll replace it soon.”
Turns out this show was quite entertaining. I rolled the
beer bottle between my palms, giving helpful advice to the
man who was trying to choose between forty grand and
his girlfriend.
Suddenly, I sniffed. At first I thought I’d just let the pan
get a bit hot and it was smoking. But then I turned around
and caught a glimpse of those bloody lace curtains.
Or at least, what used to be the curtains.
“Shit!”
I dropped the bottle, darting into the kitchen. I seized
the mop bucket from the cupboard and filled it with
water, dousing the inferno that was quickly engulfing the
kitchen. Smoke filled the air and I coughed, squinting. It
smelt like burning mothballs – a result of my Grandma
being our cleaner. I pulled my collar over my mouth and
nose, employing an old trick that I’d learnt in primary
school.
It didn’t work. My eyes were watering and I could
barely keep them open. I dropped the mop bucket and
watched as the fire began to grow and devour my home.
Suddenly I was knocked out of the way. Against the
smoke, I recognized my stalker. He flung his hands out as
if to protect me, but as I watched, the flames grew smaller
and smaller, until they tucked into a little ball that he
picked up and slipped into his pocket.
I must’ve drunk that beer more quickly than I’d
thought.
“You should be more careful,” he said, turning to me.
“This could’ve been bad if- hey!”
I held the saucepan at the ready, having snatched it off
the counter and struck his arm with it.
“What are you doing?” he spluttered.
“What am I doing? What are
you
doing!?” I swung the
saucepan up to my shoulder, ready to react to his slightest
movement. “I’ve seen you watching me. And now
you’re
inmy house.
“So you take up arms with a saucepan?” he asked,
somewhat amused, though his dark eyes never left mine.
I scowled but didn’t reply.
Sirens wailed from down the road. Mrs Rogers next
door must’ve seen the smoke. My stalker glanced around
quickly.
“I’m going to leave you now-“
“Damn straight.” I snapped.
“- but listen to me,” he gripped my elbow, which
almost resulted in the saucepan coming down on his head.
“Listen to your dreams.”
I lowered my saucepan a little.
“What?”
My eyes flicked to the driveway as a fire truck pulled
into it, and I quickly turned back to question him further.
But he was gone. The back door slammed and I ran to
the window just in time to see him jump the fence,
knocking a few more boards from it.