The Moth and The Flame

Chapter 1: Dust

"Jason! Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Jason rolled over and sat up, trying to rub the tiredness from his eyes. He looked at his phone. 7:02 AM. He heard footsteps approaching his room.

"Honey, come on. You'll be late for your exams. It's the last week of school," his mom said as she turned on the light. "Now, get dressed."

Jason nodded and sat on the edge of his bed. This year had been another to forget. Being the quiet, smart kid, he had been bullied almost every year of school. And with three more years of high school left, there was no end in sight. He felt invisible to his parents. There were worse days than others, worse nights than others. On the really rough nights, he would contemplate creating a world where he no longer existed, only to hear his lost grandmother's words: "Jason, my dear. This struggle is setting you up for success. While these kids may appear to have the upper hand now, you'll have the last laugh. You'll be the successful one with a beautiful family while they are miserable. And one day, a pretty young lady will come along who gives you a breath of fresh air, who makes life worth living!" He hoped the latter would come sooner than later. He'd had crushes, but they would always use him for attention and entertainment. He'd had friends. But they'd all moved on.

He walked to the closet, grabbed a pair of jeans and flicked through his shirt selection. He settled on a band T-shirt for The Moth & The Flame that he'd bought at their concert last summer. He smiled, remembering the great time he and his best friend, Stevie, had. Stevie's dad was in the Navy and had been reassigned across the country. They had texted for a while, but both were busy with school and slowly stopped talking.

The rest of the morning went off without a hitch. Jason breezed through his Algebra II and English exams. The afternoon was a different story, however. While in the middle of his U.S. History exam, he felt something hit the back of his head. He looked on the floor and saw a paper hornet. He turned around and saw Trip, this year's main contender for Bully of the Year, put down a rubber band and smile menacingly. Jason shook his head and got back to his exam. Seconds later, another shot hit the back of his head. He turned around again, more aggressively this time.

The teacher, Mrs. Holliday, took notice. "Jason. I warned you all about keeping your eyes forward. Step into the hallway, please."

Jason followed her out into the hall. She had a stern look on her face. "Jason. You know better. This school has a strict policy for exam etiquette. I'm going to have to send you to the principal's office."

"But Mrs. H., Tri-."

She stopped him. "I don't want to hear it. Get your things and go see Mr. Marks."

Jason slowly made his way to Mr. Marks' office. He knocked on the door and walked in. Mr. Marks was sitting at his desk. A round, jolly fellow, he was liked by the student body. He has a genuine look of surprise when Jason entered.

"Jason? Is there something I can help you with?" Mr. Marks asked.

"Well, sir. Mrs. Holliday told me to come see you for violating school exam rules," Jason responded quietly.

Mr. Marks' brow furrowed. "What do you mean? What exactly did you do?"

"I turned around in my seat. Trip Calhoun shot two of those little paper hornets at me."

"I see." Mr. Marks paused. "Well, Jason. I know that rule might seem a bit over-the-top, but we had horrendous cheating scandals a few years ago and had to implement strict policies dictated to us by the district board. So, unfortunately, you're going to have to retake the exam for 70% maximum credit. I'll investigate Trip, and if what you've said is true, he'll be retaking it as well. I'm sorry. But this is the rule."

Jason nodded, feeling defeated, and went to his locker. The bell had rung while he was in the Principal's office. He grabbed his things and began the walk home.

He had decided to take a longer route, anticipating he'd be met with scrutiny at home. This way took him past the old church, long abandoned and decrepit. His grandmother would take him past it when he was younger, always talking about the magical aura coming from the structure. He'd walked by it many times since, not paying it any mind. As he neared, he felt a strange pull, like something was drawing him in. He stopped at the pathway leading up to the church before continuing. The former might of the abandoned cathedral was ever-present as he approached the massive wooden doors. He pulled on the tarnished bronze latch, and the doors roared and creaked open.

He was hit with a wave of stale air and coughed from the dust that filled the air like snow. He set his bag down by the doors and carefully stepped down the aisle and noticed a spiral staircase to the left of the stage and walked over to it. Careful not to step through, he slowly traversed it as the light filtered in through the windows, creating a mystical landscape within the walls of the old church. The stairs groaned under his feet with every step.

As he reached the top step, he was met with a long hallway. There appeared to be a faint light flickering in the room at the end. He timidly approached, unsure if someone (or something) was waiting for him. He peered into the room. In the corner sat an old piano, a lit candle's flame slow-dancing on top. The shadow of a moth darted around the faintly illuminated walls. As he approached the piano, he could see dust floating in the candlelight. There was a dainty handprint, smaller than his, cast in negative space where the soot once covered. It was seemingly fresh, created only moments ago...