shared this picture
and she said, "This is just the side yard at a house here in town. I like the gate and the columns. A house that could inspire a novel."
I said I may take her up on that challenge.
I know it's not a novel, but here it is:
The first rays of sun cast their shine through the old man's window.
He opens his eyes and rubs them with his hands as he gets up.
Putting on his shoes, he slowly walks to his basin on the night stand and pours water inside it.
He washes his face and sits down to his table to eat his breakfast.
It's not much for an old blacksmith like him.
A loaf of bread, some ham, some cheese, and water to wash it all down with.
He gets up and goes into his workshop. He has an order to make.
He takes his cast and pours iron into it after melting it. It's not an easy task.
He makes sheets of iron and shapes them with his hammer.
He makes it straight with his hands, which still have some strength in them.
He used to be a strong man, and his work was known throughout the country.
Over the years he had offers for apprenticeship, and these days he has a young work force, but he still enjoys doing the work his father thought him when he was young.
As he hammered those sheets and shaped them, he could remember making his first sword.
It was not the sword that he remembers from that day, it was the way his father thought him to make it.
He remembered the furnace, and the bird's excrement, as his father guided his actions. Slowly and patiently.
Slowly, because every work that is rushed is bound to be a mistake, especially a sword. One wrong action and it will break on slightest contact.
On and on he went, making and shaping the iron sheets.
Once that was done, he made all the edges smooth before connecting them.
Measuring each sheet, he marked all the spots he'll connect with a piece of chalk.
Connecting them with a special cast, one by one, he started forming them into a gate.
The pattern could be seen as he connected only few sheets of metal.
He called his boys to come and help him put each gate to the wagon.
He got onto the wagon and he pointed old Rusty in the right direction.
The old horse knew his way, he used to travel with his master a lot and they were together for many years.
The servants of the house came out and helped the old man put the gate out and set them in place.
The masters thanked him as they put a bag into his hand, and the old man took out 3 keys as was in the order and handed it to the master of the house.
Saying goodbye, he took Rusty back home the scenic route, as the sun set behind them.