No Fire

When, in old age, you look back on your life, it can be surprising what events marked major turning points.

Sometimes you will see, with distance, that the littlest moment changed everything. A smile when one is not expected issues you into a state of joy, in which you find yourself more amenable to friendship, thus beginning relations with someone who will, from that day forward, be your closest compatriot. Or a laugh at a clever joke reveals your penchant for wordplay, which lights a flame of inspiration, leading to a vaunted career in letters.

For me, if I had to choose one small moment that defined my own life, I would say it was when I signed, in blood, the contract Lord Dunfree presented to me, promising me a life of luxury in exchange for my assistance, and thus trapping me into an eternity of servitude within his castle upon the hill.

It has been a life with its ups and downs, I will tell you that much.

There were the early days, when all seemed awful. I was torn away from my family, seeing them only when Lord Dunfree permitted me to trudge into town on some errand or another. And even then, I only caught glimpses in passing; my wife would usher the children inside whenever she saw me walking down the street. Perhaps she wanted the children to forget me, so that they could move on, or perhaps she merely wanted to keep their memories of me positive, which would’ve been impossible had they remained in the yard and watched as the villagers inevitably pelted me with radishes on the cusp of rotting.

Making matters worse, when I reported these incidents of abuse back to Lord Dunfree, he grew excited. It turned out produce on the verge of expiration accounted for one of his favorite snacks. Thus, on subsequent trips, the villagers not only pelted but watched and yelled obscenities at me as I greedily gathered the radishes and stuffed them into my pockets. And let me tell you, to hear a man eat a radish that has gone soft is a sound I would not wish upon anyone. Especially when the man is maybe not entirely of mankind.

But now, some years or centuries later, we have settled into a nice routine. Heaving rotting vegetables at the local pariah has grown passé, and so I can enjoy my walks into the village, which has grown quite a bit, with minimal mess. And while there, I can interact with my great-great-great-grandchildren, which is not something many people can claim.

What’s more, I’ve managed to make my work within the castle much easier by sneaking in some modern conveniences. I have hidden a bluetooth speaker in the horn of the gramophone, for example, allowing a much wider variety of music.

And, moreover, I have slyly replaced the real candles with Luminara Flameless Candles. It used to take half of my day walking around lighting all the sconces, only to spend the other half snuffing them out. Now, I can use remotes, or even set schedules so they turn on and off themselves, thus allowing Lord Dunfree to enjoy some dreary candle ambiance without all the hassle.

So, it’s not a bad life, really. Then again, how can I possibly say such a thing definitively? After all, I’m only about three hundred years into it. Who knows what the future might hold!