The Rose Blacksmith

Falling? Is that my purpose, to fall?

The wind whisps through my hair as I fall, I don’t know how far I’ve been falling, have I always been falling? I pull my eyes open slowly as dry and crusted tears fall into the wind, were my eyes always this heavy? All around me is white, somewhere from the corner of my mind I recall the word clouds, am I trapped in a cloud? No, not trapped, I don’t feel trapped, I feel like I am traveling, traveling towards my purpose. I remember now, I had lost my purpose and now I have a new one. Slowly with a heavy breath I close my eyes, the wind stops but I’m not worried, I can feel it in my heart, my purpose.

The sounds of flames and crackling embers draws me from my slumber, the smell of charcoal tinges my nose, slowly I creep my eyes open, the weight from them lifted as if the world had slid off my shoulders. Sitting up I take in my room, a small wooden bed with a red duvet covered embroidered roses and thorns. The walls are adorned with a wide variety of weapons from swords to knives, even some bows and somethings that aren’t immediately familiar to me but again like a heartbeat the word comes to me, those are guns, some small, others are big.

Standing up I remake my bed and step into my overalls before pulling them and buttoning them up, I reach for my cape on the hook, the red fabric feels foreign to me before I remember, how silly of me. That’s an apron not a cape, around the waist not around the neck, I loop it through the belt slots of my overalls and step into my boots, the leather warm and unbroken, crouching down on instinct I checked under the bed half expecting a monster but instead I’m met with a chest, adorned with a heavy lock while next to it sits my cap, fallen from its place beside my bed, I place it back on top of me tucking my hair safely within it.

Stepping towards the door I grab the door handle and turn, freezing before I pull it open, fear paralysing me before a throb beats out from my heart to the rest of my body, calming me and reminding me that this is my purpose. Swinging the door open I feel renewed in my purpose, a smile creeps across my face as I take in the small shop that stands before me, a handful of waist high aisles display even more weapons behind glass displays and the walls are further adorned with them, these ones have an extra honour of a small plaque presenting their name and explaining their attributes and costs. To the back of the shop stands a furnace, anvil and all my tools, to the side stands a final counter with a cash register. No! My heart says, not cash, what I trade in is much more valuable than that, I provide people with the means to protect themselves and they pay thusly, in kind.

Stepping towards the entrance I flip the sign in the window from Closed to Open, stepping out I look up to the rainbow sky and take in the potential customers walking along from both directions. I remember from somewhere that they had never seen someone like me before, the word falls through my fingers like water, but I shrug it off, in my defence almost everyone that comes into my shop are something new and wonderful. Turning around I fix the sign that hangs slightly askew below the name of my shop Grand Opening it says, my eyes drift upwards and for some reason it feels like I’m seeing these words for the first time.

The Rose Blacksmith