The Blacksmith from GillyMature

Short story about a blacksmith from a small village called, Gilly. He rises to become something greater, but must fall to the deepest pits of hell to do so.

I recall dry gravel crunching as I walked passed the patch of garden flowers, passed the yellow house with the red fence, passed countless pine trees that touched the clouds, passed an open gully with snowy mountainous ranges laid against a pale blue sky, for her. To see her standing there, in her tulip colored dress with the furled ribbon, with the tiny black velvet shoes and vibrant red hot hair, ignited a passion within my soul that has long been forgotten.

I faintly recall the smell of her baking, the sugary smell of a buttery paste that she basted golden brown bread rolls with, smiling with those red lips, laughing. Always laughing. Miranda never stopped laughing, when she did it was only to breathe. I loosely recall the first night we made love, the smell of her vanilla scented skin, that glistened in the warm orange glow that came from our red-brick fireplace. It burned and crackled romantically as I kissed her body. I remember the warm fuzzy blanket we laid on, merging as one being, our naked bodies folding together, it was burgandy and made in some distant land.

The look in her eyes was legendary, they glazed over as her face flushed red. As I kissed her opened mouth, I smelled her lemony breath, a lingering and familiar scent left behind by a regular drink of hers; honey-mead with a slice of lemon, it was her favourite. Rain had fallen that night, violently at first, but it died down within minutes, came to a soft shower.

We lay together, alone, without a single worry, laughing and talking about passed memories. It was the happiest I recall her being, hell, it was the happiest I ever was. I was never sad when I was with her. She completed me, righted my wrongs and made me believe that life is worth living, especially after all I've been through. Somehow this brought memories of mom, a woman I almost forgot until now.

My story begins eight years before I met and fell in love with Miranda, back when I was nothing but a blacksmith in a small village simply known as, Gilly.

The End

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