Silvia had come to play with him in the past year, his dad had introduced them the day he turned 10, 2 years had pass from his mum's death and he was very jelose to see how she been carised by her mum before to go to see him with a parcel very well done with a beautiful bow, no that he cared for that staff but he knew only rich people could afford spending as much money in the cover as in the gift, he wasn't used to fancy staff they lived a simple life.
he then looked at his dad and with his approval started to open the sticky tape trying to don't broken any piece of that beautiful wrapped paper...
Her dad and my dad look each other like hoping I would love it I guess.
I opened it pulling off the last tape and there it was ... a wooden vox, exquisitely carved, I looked at my dad like if that was a joke, my dad then came to tell me it story:
My dad's grandpa had carved this vox and had given the vox to Silvia's gran grand father after a peculiar location in a particular moment on time, a rare gift and now had come back to our family, now the vox was mine.
I definitely didn't find it special, my dad was a great craftsman, he was selling exquisite tables and chairs,sculptures, even music boxes like that one, I just said thank you to Silvia and put the vox next to the other gifts, after that beautiful paper I would have expected a beautiful toy, I really get desapointed to find like if one of my dads old music boxes was, old wood carved beautifully but wasn't saying nothing to me, I had already music boxes and made of new wood, carved by me ,my dad and grand dad and they knew I wasn't really interested in the gift.
I loved to see my dad carving, but I despise the music boxes, for one part because they reminded me to my mother and two because I was not into it, I really wanted cars, tractors, soldier toys.. What a music vox will do for me, with that decoration even would have been a better gift for his doughter...why giving it to me?
After 16 years there they were ...she was curling her hair with her finger while was telling him about her life in the city , he was still in the village, doing what his dad once did, what his grandadad did.. A job trans generational the business was going great even better than when his dad was alive but he never had pass to expand the business, he loved his little store near the port in the little village of Santa Eulalia in the southwest of Portugal, he could hear the seagulls every morning when he was opening the shop, he was cleaning the sculptures, the boxes and going behind in the workshop to carve into new ideas and projects till the time to attend any customer, he loved it there.
YOU ARE READING
the magic vox
FanfictionEiden was not tall enough to see over the table but he grew up helping his dad in the workshop... 16 years later his fingers were as skilled as his dads once were... a lovely tune flew and surrounded the room... then the chime of the door twinkled...
