Following a post-apocalyptic world of blacksmiths: They believe all survivors of a seemingly worldwide war have started anew, using resources they're left with to evolve & create an advanced world all over again. But after Clyde, Carolina, Abner, Aa...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ITWAS PAST midnight, the time when the house was comfortably silent, as was the village, all except for the hushed melody of crickets chirping through the early morning. While most of the villagers were devoted to the gentle lull of sleep, there was someone in particular, who used the near silence to be inspired and to create.
Clyde wasn't in his home. He was in the workshop, where he spent most of the day ( and night ), as a blacksmith usually would.
"I just have a lot on my mind. I want to use it to be productive," Clyde would usually insist to his father, who rightfully felt concern to see the bright young man slave away through the night and into the early morning. To that, his father, Abner, couldn't refuse. So he'd give Clyde his keys to the workshop and he'd light a lantern or two, and then he'd stumble tiredly back to bed, leaving Clyde to his work.
Clyde never complained. He liked being left in his own company, hands occupied by building whatever he put his mind to. Besides, keeping himself busy was how he managed to cope with everything else, and keeping himself busy was always easier when he was alone and focused; like he was now. Clyde actually wasn't creating anything new right now. Nothing brand new, that is. No, this gauntlet he was focused on putting together was made entirely out of old materials; rusty metal, battered leather and used gears that no longer had any use to the machines that once belonged to, because they'd stopped fitting or had become too corroded.
He decided that using old things to make new ones would be more cost efficient and possibly the start of a new trend. He and the others had already worked all day the previous day, creating armor and weapons like the gauntlet. But Clyde figured he would keep working on them.
It'd be another day before they would be traveling to the castle town to sell these new repurposed gadgets, he noted, working on twisting a screw into a pocket watch for the gauntlet. Painted across the walls of the workshop were shadows that casted across the room from the bright yet small flame, dancing over the candle wick of the lantern placed beside Clyde. He was tired, but he kept working. He always did. It was well known that he would always overwork himself, despite how much he loved sleep — it just didn't come easily.
