I wrote this story while thinking about life and family. Everyone has secrets; sometimes these...
Show full author's note »
A month passed after Lilly's birth before Father decided to obtain a job at the blacksmith shop near the edge of the town. My father was a very intelligent man and could have any job he wished. However, he loved to work as a blacksmith. As a young man, he assisted his father in the blacksmith shop in Fargus. I guess he wants to feel closer to his childhood friend. He diligently works everyday, proving his love for us many times over.
I was permitted to visit the fountain after the three weeks Father promised. My appreciation of the fountain grew as my time there shortened. Regardless, I still enjoyed watching the shows at the watery theater. Whenever I go to the town center, I always check the alley for any signs of the demented woman. Usually, she sits against the stone walls and whispers to herself about death and explosions. I still try my best to avoid her at all costs.
One morning, Mother pleaded with Father to leave the shop. Although my family needed the money, Mother wanted him to get a new job.
“The work is too dangerous,” she cried. “I refuse to let you get hurt!”
Father caressed Mother's face, comforting her. “Stephanie, I will be fine. I have worked in the shop for three years now. The shop maintains a good record; no accidents have occurred in five years. Besides, I love what I do. I have not worked a day in three years because I love being a blacksmith. Watching rough ores turn into works of art stirs something in my heart. Forging weapons and crafting statues is my passion; nothing can change that.”
Mother started crying. “John, I just do not want anything to happen.”
“I know. I love you and I promise to be careful,” Father whispered.
Mother smiled, knowing she could not persuade her stubborn husband. She prepared breakfast afterward with fresh foods from the market. Mother started frying eggs and bacon. The scent of the crisp meat wafted upstairs and the eggs sizzled on the skillet. Trevor and I bounced out of bed for breakfast. Father must have heard us.
“Matthew! Trevor! Come downstairs as soon as you're ready,” he yelled up the stairwell. Father grinned and began to imagine our faces of excitement. After pondering this thought for a minute, he exploded with guttural roars of laughter.
“Sweetie, you are really loud! What is so funny?” Mother asked, although she could not remain serious. She laughed loudly as well. Trevor and I looked at each other.
“What do you think is so funny?” Trevor asked me.
“Who knows? It could be anything. Have you forgotten that we are talking about Mother and Father?” I said.
Trevor began giggling and I joined him. We walked downstairs to find Mother and Father still laughing, their faces red with happiness.