The Smith

Work in Progress.

He is careful, as always, not to wake her, grabbing his clothes and moving out into the hall to dress. He is thankful of the soft light shoes he slips on, even with the fire burning in the grate the boards are uncomfortably cold this time of night. Moving downstairs he avoids the creaky step his wife has been trying to fix for the past year. No matter what she tries, it still creaks. Their small dark cat rises from its place near the fire and crosses the cold floor to greet him, all yellow eyes and shadows. Friendlier than many of her kind, she accepts it when he picks her up in his large hands, bringing her near to eye level and stroking her soft ears. Mollified, she heads back to her spot near the fire once he sets her down. He almost doesn’t bother with a coat, but knows he will want it in the shop while waiting for the fire.

His breath comes out in small white puffs as he makes his way across the yard to the small workshop. His shop is much like any other black smithy, smaller than some, larger than others. He can, and does, make horseshoes and ploughs and a myriad of everyday items. Tonight he is moved to create something different.

Once inside he hangs his coat on the hook beside the door, shivering slightly but knowing that it will be warm soon enough. He trades his soft shoes for boots of extra thick leather and dons a thick apron. With his gloves close to hand he begins to stoke the fire. While it never truly goes out, the coals have been banked down to softly glowing embers which he uses to coax a blaze that the soon warms the shop, making him forget about the cold outside and turn to the task at hand.




Copyright 2015 J.L. Allan