Trembling, the boy covered the distance to his place. There was no sign at all of the men that had tormented him.
***
Timmy tried to ignore the stern look and wrinkled nose the maid of the house gave at what he was wearing as he went to work the next morning. He knew he was far from clean and sweet smelling -- but what did that have to do with cleaning the chimney? The first moment he was inside the smokestack, poking the brushes up into the chimney, he would immediately be smothered with dust.
"Here's the key." The maid put it into Timmy's palm. She tilted her chin up, avoiding looking at the boy. "Lock the house after you're finished and leave the key under the flower pot over there. I won't be back until tomorrow morning but should you need anything, just go to the house where I live, next to the coffee house down the street." Timmy just nodded. He did not like the woman and the contempt she showed towards him. He only wanted to get into the house as soon as he could, and begin his work ...and finish it, too. Besides, being clothed only in his thin shirt, Timmy wanted to get inside quickly so he could get warm.
Winter wind blew down the chimney, sending cold gusts of air across Timmy's face and chills down his spine. The boy quivered slightly while his feet scuttled about to find a flat surface to stand on. He had finished for the day; he just needed to climb down the stack and leave the house. Payment could be collected the next day if he felt too weary to walk to the maid's house.
Hop! Timmy jumped down to the next brick and he took another step, but -- oh, no! He missed it this time and that resulted in an inevitable dive into the fireplace. Timmy flinched at the thought of him crashing against the hard floor -- only a split moment before it happened. A sickening crack and a pained shriek sounded in his ears, and faded into darkness.Â
When Timmy eventually came to, he found himself in a sitting position against the wall of the chimney, one leg folded in an awkward position beneath his body, pain flaring up his leg from his ankle.
Timmy tried to move the leg but the attempt only made him cry out for it hurt so much. In the end he could only lie there silently, cringing at the stinging ache every time he made a small movement.
After some time, Timmy eventually managed to stretch out his leg. It took some more muffled gasps and tears. Never had Timmy felt so much pain. Every movement made him feel sick and set his head swimming.
The day was getting darker and so was it inside the fireplace. Timmy did not realize how long he had sat there or what time it was. He could not make his leg or body move because he knew he would simply pass out again. He had no idea how he could get out of the house.
It was pointless to shout for help. Every window was tightly secured and the fireplace was far away from them, in any case. No one would hear him shout. Timmy could not expect the maid to return, either, for she had definitely stated that she would come back the following day. The room grew colder, and Timmy had nothing to keep him warm -- he had not had anything to eat either since the meagre breakfast he had eaten in the morning.
