Basement Fire

• Wendy Wei, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2013

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and continued kneading the dough. It felt soft against my rough and chafed fingers and its doughy smell filled the busy kitchen.
Today was the young mistress's birthday and everyone was working hard to get everything absolutely perfect, full stop. The long wooden dining table was piled high with delicious food and the gardeners were out in the gardens fixing up every little leaf out of place. This was probably the most busiest time of the year, the biggest party a ten year old girl could ever have.

"Get going, everyone!" The head maid, Griselda, yelled across the hubbub in the kitchen. She headed towards me and thrust a large, voluminous bucket in my flour-dusted hands. "Go fetch some coal from the basement," Griselda said briskly and went back to work. Or rather, yelling at everyone to get everything perfect or their "lives would be worth less than the dust under her feet".

I nodded and squeezed my way towards the basement door. As soon as I closed the door behind me, the loud chatter immediately died down, along with the light in the already dimmed room. I managed to light up a candle before dragging the heavy bucket to the coal heap. I picked up a rusty shovel and started to fill the bucket. After I got my desired amount of coal, I mustered up all the strength I had and dragged the painfully heavy bucket towards the door. I winced as the pain from the heavy burden shot up my left arm, but I knew I couldn't give up. Griselda was still in the kitchen, waiting for the coal. I'd probably get a heavy beating later if I couldn't accomplish even a simple order like that.

I had managed only a metre or so before I collapsed. The coal was way too heavy for me, and an undernourished twelve year old can carry such a heavy burden for only so long. I let out a sigh of relief and took in gulps of air, my breathing and heartbeat increasing rapidly. Even though I have worked for Lady Arabella for such a long time, no matter how stupid or clumsy I have been, Griselda, or anyone else in my life, has never made me carry something so heavy before. My arm feels like it's been pulled out of its socket and I can barely move it.

Unfortunately, as I dropped the bucket, the candle in my other hand also landed on the floor. The fire from the tip of the candle slowly spread to the floor. I quickly rolled to my left, forgetting about my sore arm. I have to bite my lip to stifle a howl of pain. I think I could taste blood. The pain is too much for me. I could only watch the blazing flames lick hungrily at the wooden planks as my tired eyelids droop close...