The final strike of the hammer echoed from the anvil, reverberating off the rusting metal walls.
His ears had lost their integrity, buckling under the ringing.
Hurling through the air, disappointment pierced the back of his head. He knew from that moment it was the end.
Collapsing beside his workbench, the blacksmith found himself defeated, grieved with the loss of his dexterity.
He spasmed in the pool of metal shavings, curling into a ball of human flesh.
The thought of one more hammer made him sick inside. Something had changed within him, something was off.
Broken and tired, he wasted away on the floor.
The great hands of a blacksmith falling silent to the greed of time.
Love and friend
Alright, let me tell you a story about Jamie, Alex, and a little old café downtown that saw it all. Jamie and Alex had been the kind of friends who could finish each other’s sentences, knew each other’s coffee orders by heart, and were always the last two people chatting long after everyone else had left the party. They’d been inseparable since their college days, where they met in the most cliché of ways—bumping into each other and spilling coffee all over the library floor.
By Indra Wahyudi6 days ago in Fiction
Talented Black creators spotlight: Catherine Nyomenda (Chap 3).
Catherine reminds me of an enigma wrapped within a riddle. When she writes, she skips between the poetic and the dramatic. Her highlights of the African lifestyles of herself, of authors whom she admires, and the many nuances of love keeps you wondering and pondering the passage of life.
By Novel Allen3 days ago in Chapters
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