𝐓.𝐇.𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Once Martin Luther King began his speech with "I have a dream...", and listed all the things he desperately wished would come true. However, I think none of his wishes were satisfied.

This is what I compare my life to: dreams that will never be fulfilled. For instance, I'd love to become a writer or a politician to create order in this chaotic World ruled by deceit, but I can't really vision that as reality.

On the contrary, here I am cleaning one of the thousand rooms of the huge and mighty Palace, having inherited the job from my parents. "Avelyn! Hurry up, you still have to arrange the salon table. They will come back in few hours, and as usual, they'll want dinner ready."

"Give me ten minutes and I'm done here." I answer to Anne.

Anne Jackson is the oldest maid above all of us. Her always angry and severe appearance frightens us more than everything else, (except Mr and Mrs Rockchild), and this is the cause of so many stickles on her face. Despite them, she's quite pretty: her small brown eyes match with her brown wavy hair, followed by a sharp but little nose and tiny lips. In addition to her frightening facial expression, her height makes her even more terrifying,and since I'm the smallest one, I get scared quit easily. Last week she turned twenty-eight, and what better way to celebrate other than cleaning and serving the Rockchild family? Nevertheless, she has always been devoted to them, something that all the other girls, myself included, can't justify.

The Rockchild family is one of the richest and powerful families to exist on this planet. All I know is that they rule and control thousands of banks, lands and relevant people. They possess so much wealth that it could feed the human population, as well as putting an end to poverty. However, they wouldn't dare doing such an act of gratitude, and why would they? That's surely not their purpose.

I arrange the white, silky bed sheets delicately, careful not to crease them. I know how Miss Ariana is strict about these sophisticated details. I've never liked her because she treats us like slaves, even though I kind of feel like a slave, but in a different and modern way. If it wasn't for her terrible personality, I would consider her a very rare beautiful young girl. Her due eyes, her brown smooth hair and her slender figure make her look like a princess. She's the proof of how character makes the difference in a person, no matter of your physical aspect.

Her large, bright room blinds my eyes and her glimmering jewelries surely don't help. I've always asked myself why she would leave them scattered everywhere; isn't she afraid they could be stolen by us maids? Well, not me. I wouldn't ever dare to do such a thing. I can't imagine what that wicked woman would do to us. Even though she's around my age, she scares the living daylights out of me.

"Avelyn!" I hear a faint screech and I sigh.

"I've finished. I'm coming!" I yell back, frustrated. I take my cleaning trolley to the cleaning room before rushing to the principal salon.

"Avelyn, what took you so long? We need you here."

"I'm sorry. I got distracted. How can I help?" Claire gasps at my question.

"You know it like it's a Bible proverb! I know you are new to these things, but try to remember next time. Tidy the table and set the candles. It's what we always do."

"Right, sorry."

"You are lucky Anne is in the kitchen. She would have yelled her head off."

"Please don't tell her."

"Of course I won't, Ave."

Her sincere and bright smile comforts me. She has always been the kindest to me. She has brown eyes just like Anne, but her curly blonde hair make her look like a doll. She's quite small, just like me, with a little nose on her round porcelain face and plump rose lips. Sometimes she wears round glasses, because of her feeble eyesight and we like to tease her by calling her Clairy the Clevery. Thank God my room is close to hers, so I can spend time reading her books on my free day. She loves her books more than her own life, and I understand her feelings; I would do anything for knowledge.

However, she can be traumatizing sometimes. The first time I asked her if I could borrow one of her books, she gave me a threatening look and said, "If you touch my books I will cut your hands off and pull your eyeballs out so you'll never be able to read anything ever again." After several days she got to know me better, and she repeated the statement adding "..but you can read them under my supervision."

I think she made it clear.

I start preparing the table with silver dishes and cutlery; under each of them I dispose white, linen napkins. I take care of every detail, distancing every dish at the same measure, and then, at last, I add the six candles, lighting each of them with matches.

"Oh God! They've already arrived! Move over, and let me dispose the food on the dishes." Anne runs back and forward, despaired as usual.

"Anne, calm down. They will understand. They've arrived half an hour earlier."

"Claire, just shut up and help me. You think they care about excuses? Buh, it's the Rockchild family."

Suddenly the door bursts open, and the whole family enters, dressed elegantly. What kind of meeting did they have?

"Home sweet home." Angel's little voice floats around the room. Her name suits her perfectly: those blue eyes (that I bet she has takes from her mother) and those blonde waves portray her to be an actual darling angel. She reminds of me when I was young.

"Angel, stop singing and go wash your hands." Miss Brenda orders, but gently.

It's clearly noticeable that Miss Brenda comes from a humble family that the first thing they teach to children are good manners.

"But I'm not hungry, mama. I want to play!"

"Angel, stop complaining." Mr. Brian reprimands her.

"But I want to play, dad." She reveals her adorable puppy eyes, and from Mr. Brian's hesitant expression, it seems he can't resist.

"Okay, but don't make a mess. You always create a problem. The maids will get tired of your bad behavior. Understood?"

"Yes, dad" the little girl sulked, her gaze falling to the floor in disappointment.

She runs toward him kissing his cheek. I'm quite surprised at his words, but I've always known he is different from the other members of the family. He is extremely agreeable and gentleman like. He has always tried to treat us like the other members, as if we were a part of the family.

He's related to the Rockchild family only because Mrs Elizabeth Rockchild, his mother, is married to Mr John Rockchild. His father's identity is a dilemma to all of us, but one thing is sure: his father's surname is Johnson. I reckon he's inherited both character and features from his father: green eyes, brown wavy hair and burly body.

"Avelyn, please can you take Angel to her room? I don't want her to hurt herself." Mr. Brian asks me. Oh, and respect, too. Towards everyone.

"Sure, Mr. Johnson."

Before following Angel, I see Mr. Rockchild and Mrs. Rockchild taking seat on the table and giving me passive looks. If Ariana is frightening, they exceed even that. Their aspect is nothing compared to zombies movies. Actually, they are even more monstrous than the zombies. Soulless eyes, cadaveric skin, big deep winkles and not to forget their huge bags under their eyes. Both have dark eyes and grey hair, but in contrast to Mr Rockchild, Mrs Rockchild is some centimetres taller and more muscular than him.

Yes, Mrs Rockchild.

I look away, and I follow Angel up the stairs.

"What is your name?" Her innocent voice always melts my heart.

"My name is Avelyn." I smile at her.

"Mine is Angel."

"I know it is."

"Do you want to be friends?" Her tiny hand gently takes mine, uniting them.

"Sure."

"Then let's go and play! I have to show you so many toys!"