Merry go round

 A single clean strike from his axe and a piece of wood was split right down the middle; nary a splinter in the air as he placed the next branch on the chopping stump.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop, place, repeat.

It was a well practiced chore he’s been doing for nearly ten years, the mind numbing simplicity of the task always sapping away his motivation to do anything after the work was finally done.

One chop at a time, a mound of firewood larger than himself would be built up, all to be burned away in a single day’s time.

The downside of owning the village’s bread oven he supposed.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop, place, repeat.

Pick, shovel, repeat.

Perhaps there was another reason he despised the chore—the sense of familiarity it held. A pick to break open the ground, a shovel to remove the debris, a routine repeated a thousand times over to find that precious black stone named coal; the substance that fueled the old world.

If he counted those days, he supposes he had been doing this chore for fourteen years, even if time meant little when performing such a repetitive task.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop, place, repeat.

Chop.

And with that final swing, his (father’s) chore for the day was done. A sigh escaped his lips as he wiped the sweat on his forehead, little as it meant when a gallon of the liquid was pouring freely down his bare torso.

“Hugo!” Dread filled his heart the moment he heard the clearly frustrated voice. A glance behind revealed his older sister standing a few meters away, his shirt held in her hands.

“E-Ellyn.” A stutter in his voice betrayed his sin.

“How many times do I have to tell you two, stop sparring in that field of mud! It’s a pain to clean.”

Once upon a time, he would’ve claimed that father was the only reason they sparred there, something to do with the scraped ground being the proof of their diligent training. But that stopped being an excuse the day Hugo achieved his first victory against Rucio, when the older man slipped on a patch of particularly muddy ground.

The boy continued to await a repeat of that instance, hence why he also refused to move locations nowadays.

“O-Oi, who said anything about sparring? Father and I spent the afternoon swimming.” He said, trying to excuse why his shirt was wet.

“Look! my shirt is only about as dirty as usual, no mud.” It was indeed true, he made sure to clean up after returning home in the hopes of fooling his sister.

Ellyn repeatedly clicked her tongue as she waved an index finger. “Do you think you can fool the eyes of a laundry hawk? I’ve been doing this for long enough to recognize your sad attempts at washing clothes.”

‘You didn’t recognize it last time.’ Hugo wanted to exclaim, though he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Best not to prod the beast too much.

His sister sighed before gesturing him to follow. “You’re always too rough, it undoes the stitching and makes the dyes fade. Come on, I’ll teach you how to do it properly.”

Hugo was fairly certain he was simply being exploited for free labor under the guise of mentorship, considering the fact it was the thirtieth time she was ‘teaching’ him.

He still couldn’t refuse of course, a path of much greater suffering awaited if he did.

With one final sigh for the road, he moved to follow suit.

“You should just call that Rowan boy over if you want a laundry companion so much, you’re always stealing glimpses whenever he passes by.” He said. Ellyn roughly pushed him with her shoulder.

“Shut up.”

Hugo couldn’t help but chuckle in response. He supposed Ellyn could at the very least provide him with entertainment for the afternoon.

Rucio knelt, placing a hand upon his heart while reaching out with the other towards the woman that stood in front of him, her face shrouded by a veil of cloth.

“O my lady, though I have gazed upon your face for but a moment, I am blinded by your unsurpassable beauty. The world around has lost all color, for the rubies that are your eyes shine too brilliantly to allow any other. I beg of you with all my being, allow me but a single instance of your eternal life.”

The woman dramatically put the back of her hand on her forehead as she turned away from him, her body expressing a profound sense of sadness with each movement.

“Ah, my dear Rucio, your radiant words reach my ears, yet the divine above will not allow such a thing. An angel and a human cannot be together.” She said with a soft voice, attempting to walk away. But Rucio grabbed her hands before she could leave his reach. A gasp rang out of the audience, mostly from the teenagers.

“Even so, my beautiful Althea. I can no longer live without you! If the world deigns to reject our union, then I shall be the one to reject the world.” It was now Althea's turn to gasp, taking a step back as she placed a hand above her mouth in surprise.

“You understand the sheer selfishness of such a request, yes?” She asked. Rucio nodded resolutely.

She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking once again. “If even your heart of chivalry is to be consumed by this selfish desire, then the heart of an angel too must be vulnerable.”

Slowly turning back towards him, she lifted the veil of cloth that covered her face.

With a flourish Rucio stood up, holding the woman by the waist and raising Althea high into the air.

“Yes! Let us run towards the great unknown! Where we shall find our happily-ever-after, unbound by this grey world that rejects our dreams.”

He let out a laugh of delight, Althea began to shed tears of happiness. They spun several times, laughing without a care in the world before Rucio gently placed his companion onto the ground. The two of them turned to the audience before bowing, the village folk began to clap, a hundred praises filling the air of the small tavern.

“Miss Althea, are you really an angel?” Asked the blacksmith’s daughter, no older than five.

“Of course she is! If my wife is not an angel, then God is nothing more than a man!” His father laughed. The girl seemed to believe every word that was said, completely oblivious to the questionable existence of angels, nevermind his mother’s status as one.

Though, one must admit, with her waist long snow white hair and golden eyes, no one could be blamed for thinking his mother to be an angel, a beauty that was both inherited by and deeply contrasted with Ellyn’s brash personality.

“Haha! That’s our actor duo! The only reason they left theatre was to give the young’uns a chance!” Someone cheered. Althea chuckled lightly as she shook her head.

“We are both long past our prime, though I’m glad we’re still capable of bringing such joy to you all—” She was loudly interrupted by Rucio.

“That’s right Martin! The kids won’t know what hit em when we make our return in thirty years!” Hugo personally felt it wasn’t all that amusing of a joke, though the light alcohol that had been passed around over the last hour had served to loosen everyone up a bit, nearly a hundred people roared as though they just heard the funniest thing in the world.

Ellyn joined in, not drunk in the slightest but simply swept up in the flow of things.

The evening was routine by all measures, a play held in the village tavern by their parents, reduced in scale from their days at the big theatres to fit the humble environment. With over a hundred people showing up each day, nearly every member of the community would gather here at least once a week.

Hugo could never quite find it within himself to laugh with everyone else, yet the jovial atmosphere still brought a smile to his face.

Though it was routine, perhaps he would one day be able to make it his own, to find happiness within the familiar, as difficult as that was at times. And with some luck, he'll be able to forget and move on.