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This is a short story about a carpenter.


Submitted:Jul 11, 2011    Reads: 96    Comments: 12    Likes: 5   


As he walked along the riverbank, he thought of her and how she had left him behind. It seemed to him that this walk was the only time he really felt peace. To him that was worth more than almost anything. He liked to be left alone to his ruminating thoughts.

Everyday it was the same routine. He would wake up from the dreams that were so much happier than reality. Then he would set off for his small carpentry workshop. there he would make furniture, instruments and repairs.

When he finished his working day he would go home, have bite to eat and then go for his natural breath of fresh air by the river.It curved its way thorough the earth like a silver snake. Now as he walked along its bank he thought of the last time he had seen her, how he loved her and how he had never realised it until it had been to late.

When he was walking back to his home thorough the quaint little town where he lived he decided to stop for a few drinks at a pub. He would often go there to drink when he felt such turgid melancholy. He walked inside, bought himself a pint of cold beer and settled down at the wooden bar. The carpenter had many drinks and soon he was quite drunk. He felt warmer in his being but he was aware that the feeling would not last.

When he got up to leave he stumbled and knocked some glasses off a table. As they smashed people turned to look at him and he blushed in his shame. He thought he read contempt in their eyes and he could not bare it. A minute later he was outside in the cool street, lit orange by the streetlights. He lent against a wall and violently threw up. Then he turned and staggered down the street towards his home. As he walked swaying along he thought, "life's pleasures and wealth have passed me by, perhaps I should just end it all and be done with it".

Finally, he reached his little cottage and after unlocking his door and walking upstairs he collapsed on his old pine bed. He had made it himself years before when he was happier and still with her. As he laid there the bed started to spin, as it so often did when he had drowned his sorrows to such an extreme. It would spin slowly at first and then faster and faster.

When he got to sleep at last he dreamt that he was in a giant room built out of white marble, with tall pillars around its cracked walls. There was only one person in the vast chamber apart from himself. She was standing at the other end of the room facing away from him. The woman was slim with hair the colour of polished copper. He stared at the woman he loved and started to run towards her. The moment he started to run she disappeared thorough the oak doors opposite her. The carpenter ran thorough the doors she had left open into the darkness beyond. Then the ground gave way beneath him and he was falling into an endless black abyss.





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