The Steward

Chapter One

The gentle hum of the house's air conditioning system was a peaceful noise. It was like the birds chirping in the morning or the turning of a book's pages in the town's library. It was a lull that held her captive on that very evening.

The crisp old pages that hid in the books on the Oakwood shelves were her domain. Though perhaps listing it as a domain was putting it lightly. It was her kingdom.

Among each book, there was an aura, one that captivated fellow readers and drew them towards the shelves. More often than not, they would all pick up the same book, running their digits along with the cover and over the binding that was ravished with age. They too would open the book's pages only to look towards her in confusion. The pages were soulless. Empty and crippled with age. The paper crumpling in their hands as she would explain to them as she did the others, it was merely an old journal she had found. They would then nod their head in understanding and place it back amongst the shelf of tired books. Of course, a little lie never truly hurt anyone. As she too wondered about the blank pages but held the questions on the tip of her tongue.

The house was a light blue, its hues had changed over time from the wear of the weather.

Inside, the entrance was grand, a spiral staircase with bookshelves wound around it, creating an elaborate design, the walnut floors spaced perfectly to allow no sound to escape them.

Walking up the set of stairs Almena would quietly eye the books, plucking one off the shelf on a rare occasion, sitting upon the steps to read it with a soft hmm.

On the day of her death, Almena seemed to drift up the stairs, taking in the last view of her home with a lost gaze. The life she'd built for herself had come crumbling down around her once more. The curse of her soul kept her moving consistently, locking her away in different realms, each time leaving a piece of her behind.

That evening she would press the book against her chest once more. With a tired sigh, she allowed herself to wallow. Today was the day, her last day in this realm. In a mere few hours' time, she would be considered dead.

When the sun would be setting itself to bed and the summer air would be losing the thick array of humidity that it seemed to grasp like a child with a new toy during the day, they would find her body. The cold corpse would be lying upon the unkempt bed, not a thing out of place. The death would be listed the following day in the obituary of the town newspaper as a natural cause.

The pathologist wouldn't dare speak against it.

The only thing that would be missing was a soul.

And a book.

~ ~ ~

You see when the person knows they're about to die, they can feel it, that gut feeling is truly the tug of your soul slowly beginning to remove itself from your soon-to-be corpse. A soul is a rather peculiar thing, sometimes it begins the cycle then suddenly stops, giving the human years longer to truly live before it begins to diminish their lifeline once more.

Though, not many anticipate that their whole life will revolve around the very essence of a worn, inadequate book with blank pages that forces them into various realms to follow a puzzle that has never been solved.

I most certainly can assure you that I did not.

~ ~ ~

And this is how Almena came to the knowledge of her next beginning.

The name Almena in old English is translated into a faithful protector.

Before I begin can we just take a moment to discuss how horrible the name Almena is? Truthfully, what sort of drugs could one's family be influenced by to name their daughter Almena. Talk about a quick way to ruin your parenting methods. Though this particular story has already been ruined and mutilated; but, I will continue it anyway.