Chapter 1
He stood there in his old worn out clothes with a thick piece of black cloth around him that kept the clothes from being in a much worse condition. An apron that was fading in its original color and was almost completely hidden by the thick layer of charcoal colored dust that covered it. With his messy hair that looked like it had never been brushed or properly maintained. The loud sound of a heavy hammer hitting against the red hot metal that was taking more and more shape with each blow. The bright red sparks that flew like fireworks were disappearing one by one in thin air along with some other ones burning parts of his apron.
He could hear the loud force of the wind every time his arm swung from his ear to the anvil. Drops of sweat ran down his forehead to his unwell shaved chin and into the palm of his hand, coating the handle of the hammer from the intense work and the heat of the burning sun rays.
After a good 20 minutes of hammering, he places the damaged hammer on the cold, dry side of the anvil, then dries his sweaty hand on his apron, and with his tongs held firmly in his other hand, he carries the boiling metal into the water bath inside the forge, with great confidence that he will not burn himself. He dips the metal into the water and a loud fizzing sound followed by a cloud of gray smoke comes out of the water. Tiny splashes of cold water shoot out of the bath to come in contact with his warm, soft skin, which for some reason gave him a feeling of relief but also pleasant after the boiling heat he endures. After cooling, the metal begins to harden and returns to its original color, the water calms down and the smoke slowly escapes through the wide open windows flying towards the clear blue cloudless sky. He places the sword on its side and checks the time. It was noon, his stomach was growling so loudly like a lion roaring for food. He takes off the work glove that was on the hand he held the sword and throws it on the work desk. Then unties the dusty apron that felt light when taken off and places it as usual on his wooden chair. He quickly wipes off the little dust that had settled on his clothes then heads outside for the little bucket full of water that he collected earlier in the day and splashes his face with freezing water, he also takes a moment to enjoy this little refreshing moment by letting his head feel the cold water running over his face like a waterfall. With all his muscles being completely relaxed and resting his arms on the each side of his body. He then blindly reaches for something to dry his face with that he might had left haphazardly in disarray earlier, and touches everything that was on the around him splashing water everywhere before grabbing onto his shirt . Placing his dripping face in the thin fabric with his eyes tightly closed to keep the water out, he aggressively rubs his face to dry it, he then pushes the hair hanging in front of his face with his wet hand which acts as a sort of natural gel. Before heading back inside the forge. He heads to a small safe that looks extremely old and barely protective of what it contains, he opens the small door and takes out a shilling as well as a few pennies to buy bread and soup.
After putting the coins in his left pocket, he goes out, closes the door behind him, turns the key in the lock and plunges his hand into his pocket to place the key at the very bottom so that it wouldn’t jump out randomly while looking for something else in it. As he goes down to the city, he looks into other shops to occupy his eyes and mind with something other than stones and metals also trying to remember what the other colors looked like . He looks at those little shops that would be located on the corner of the street with people laughing loudly like men who have had a little too much to drink and are holding each other so one does not fall on the road, or two ladies dressed in elegant clothes in delicate silk going to the market with their little straw basket, probably talking about the weather, or “ darling, have you heard about the new price of the radishes? It is outrageous!".
He continues his way to the market, both hands in his pockets, playing with his coins and keys to occupy his bored hands. Still looking at the shops, he sees the florist, which brings back memories of his youth. He and his mother always used to go there when his mom felt like buying something decorative , he easily remembers the particular smell of yellow tulips and their golden petals. His mother always loved and bought them from time to time when she could. When he had enough pocket money from his weekly savings, he would sneak out and run down the street with his little tunic and his father's old pants that were longer than his legs, which were given accompanied with the famous phrase "you'll grow into them". With worn shoes that at a glance you could tell wouldn't last much longer or those must have gone through war! but for him his sense of style or the price didn't matter as long as they were useful. After running at full speed on the rickety sidewalk and dodging all the horses and carts with the man who controlled the agitated horses shouting at him "watch out, little fool! " with one hand waving of anger in the air hoping he would find him again.And of course, boys his age would laughed without a care in the world, but would still wondered what could have happened to them if the grumpy guy had chased him down the street or even caught him. He arrived at "Sandy's flower shop", the name he remembers perfectly and which has not changed since. He would rush inside, run up to the counter placing both his skinny hands on the counter pulling himself up a bit to have a better view of the background of the colorful shop. He would than ask for yellow tulips, the shopkeeper always recognized him and even practically knew the days he would come, so that a "special" bouquet would always be ready, waiting for to be picked up and brought home.
After recalling this pleasant memory he glances at the few uninteresting shops near the end of the road and sees the market and begins to slowly walk down realizing that he has arrived a little earlier than expected, after arriving at the beginning of the market his body automatically follows the usual path towards a small blue and white stand that easily stands out in the crowd, it is guarded by an old man, white hair and a silky smooth mustache that seems to be something that makes his whole personality. Halfway through the crowd the old man turns to him and a wide bright smile instantly appears "Albert my boy! Are you here for the usual uh?" he says laughing while wrapping the white bread covered flour. "Yes, I guess you know me very well by now." Albert says with a slight smile on his lips. "What can i say you are a loyal customer." Still with a smile as he hands him the bread and places his hand on the counter supporting half his weight for a little chat. "But tell me, my boy, will you ever eat anything other than bread and soup?"
“ well thats all i can really afford and i dont want to risk of paying for something i wont eat.”
”picky eater eh?”
The old man laughed, his chunky red cheeks covering half of his eyes like a blanket. making him look like a guy who never had a problem in his life ,a man who never knew the existence of negativity.He then went to help another customer while Albert looked in his pocket to pay for the bread. He rummaged in his right pocket and found nothing, so he searched in his left pocket with a normal reaction of just being confused with his pockets, but after placing the old coins on the display, he got the feeling that something was missing. And that feeling instantly made him look at his right pocket, he plunged his hand deep into his pocket. Two fingers quickly came out feeling the breeze after realizing that, it was his eyes' turn to investigate this unnatural mysterious feeling.
There was a hole in his pocket, small but big enough to easily drop something. After a few minutes of deep thought, he found nothing strange about it and simply continues his way to the next stall he had to go to. He waved goodbye to the old man before heading in the opposite direction, after finally getting both his bread and soup, he walked out of the market where it was brisk but more peaceful and quiet. Albert held his food tightly to his chest so he could look ahead followed by the cool afternoon air flowing through his hair, making it a little more pleasant with the sun deadly burning atmosphere with its laser beams. For some reason, the way back seemed longer to him. Albert finally arrived at the forge and with a glance, he took out his key to open the door trying to keep the bread and soup together in the other hand using his left leg as a support under. But as he searched for the key, a quick flash of a memory crossed his mind. An unpleasant feeling ran through his entire body giving him the chills. As he discovered that the 'any object' that could have fallen through the devilish hole of his pocket was indeed his key.
