Firelight

Chapter 1

The wind ruffled James's hair, as he looked down at the world below him. In the distance, he could hear his mother shouting for him, demanding he come down at once. His father sounded closer, screaming at the top of his lungs just what punishments awaited James if he didn't come down. A police car siren wailed, far too far down to do any good. It was the first time he had ever been so high, and the view was breathtaking.

Then he looked straight down, and the urge to jump came from deep within. No, not the urge to jump, the urge to fly. Closing his eyes, and spreading his arms, he imagined what it would feel like to soar among the clouds. His mother shouted some more, though the words were indistinct, as the gathering crowd gasped and muttered, not that James could hear them.

"I can fly" James shouted down to his family, "believe!"

James leapt and, for one glorious moment, he flew; his arms stretched, his hair flowing, his jacket flapping behind him like wings. Then, the dream ended, and gravity took effect. In the few seconds before he hit the ground, the young boy smiled.

That smile was the last thing I saw of my brother, and it branded itself in my memory. Four years old, and I saw not the smile of the damned, but the glory of a dragon in flight.

James wasn't a real dragon though. Real dragons don't fall.

With a gasp, Connor awoke, his body contorted in an odd position, with arms stretched back, and his left knee at his chest. Groaning, he sat upright, looking at his alarm clock. The little red numbers read four am, but he checked the time on his phone, praying he hadn't awoke so early. Three minutes past four am. Fuck! He knew from experience he would not get back to sleep, so instead stood up and walked to the window.

The moonlight shone on his bare chest, and his light brown hair seemed almost silver in the pale light. Outside, the world was still. The only sign of life was a fox running across the road. Sighing deeply, he went for a shower.

Through the hallway, he often found the slightest noise would make him freeze. The strange primeval fear of that which lurks in the dark affected him more after that dream, and tonight wascar driving past outside caused his pulse to soar.

Who would drive around at four in the morning? His muscles relaxed as the rational part of his mind identified the cause of the sound. Nothing else disturbed him on what seemed like a mile long journey to the shower downstairs, made longer by his slow sneak past his parents room.

Warm water sprayed down on Connor, as he stood immobile. It took nearly ten minutes for him to finally reach for the soap. It didn't really matter to him, he wasn't exactly in a hurry. When he finally emerged, he spent an hour straightening and styling his hair, not so much out of vanity, but rather sheer boredom.

Dawns first rays had begun to warm the winter frost when Connor finished preening himself. Dressed immaculately in black jeans and a charcoal top that seemed designed to emphasise his muscular frame as much as keep him warm, he realised he had another hour to kill before he was due to leave. Rather than wait in the house, he grabbed his hoodie, and left, silently closing the door.

The weak winter sun granted little warmth or light, and a touch of fog had formed. Connor remained mostly warm though, so walked gradually in the general direction of the university campus. The stone building seemed somewhat ominous as he approached, with the light mists partially shrouding the statues. Thankfully, the library was already open, and a few other insomniacs were already heading towards it.

Inside, the warmth of the radiators gave a welcome reprieve from the icy world. The dull glow of computer monitors granted an eerie light that was emphasised by the fact that a few of the florescent strip lights weren't working. Silent as a ghost, Connor prowled his hunting grounds, searching for a book to devour. Grabbing a few books from the classics section, he settled down on an armchair, and read about the second Punic war. It was not a subject he needed to know about, but the smell of the old books enticed him to spend a few hours in their thrall.

The day passed with little excitement, and it was for that reason Connor found himself in the club with some of his friends from university. The music pulsed, and the people on the dance floor moved, feeling the vibe. Lights flashed, strobe lights fired, and the ecstasy of the night should have consumed him. For some reason, it didn't. Something wasn't right, he couldn't enjoy the night. A strange sense of foreboding filled him, so he left, leaving his friends to grind into whoever had taken their fancy on the dance floor.

The coal fire still had a few embers glowing in it when he got home. Whilst he shared his mother's love for such a fireplace, it was not an efficient heater, and the living room was cold. The glow of the fireplace deepened all the shadows in the room, making the corners of the room pitch black. Connor sat in his armchair, and gazed at what little radiance remained among the ash. From deep within him, a strange serenity filled him, which slowly morphed into the quiescence before sleep.

"I can fly" James shouted down to his family, "believe!"

James leapt and, for one glorious moment, he flew; his arms stretched, his hair flowing, his jacket flapping behind him like wings. Then, the dream ended, and gravity took effect. In the few seconds before he hit the ground, the young boy smiled.

He went through the ground, almost like diving into water. Then, he came up from the ground, twenty years old, with translucent wings, smiling at me. I had aged too: I was my seventeen year old self.

-Become like me, spread your wings, and fly!

-How can I?

-Believe.

Connor stood on the roof, looking down. No one had noticed him, for the world was still asleep. With a deep breath, he leapt, falling from the five-storey building. But even with a feeling of glorious flight, fuelled by an inner radiance, believing can't stop a dream from ending or gravity taking hold.