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The Goldsmith and the Stone Pg. 4

The Goldsmith and the Stone Pg. 4

Goldsmith story by Rachel Walker

Dawn now in full bloom, proved the suns morning light as beams broke into the long await for the new day.

The Goldsmith, now hungry decided to see if he could find himself something to eat. He dressed readily and opened the door of his small cabin to see the morning beams basking the small village. Old, unfinished houses, small wooden shacks lined the narrow streets. His cabin on the outskirts of the small town meant he could get a quick overview of his new home. He ventured down the streets with wonder. A few locals were standing with coffee in hand , visiting on the old rustic sidewalk made of wood. A welcome contraption as the mud could be quite uncomfortable in the rainy season.

“Good morning!” The Goldsmith nodded to the elderly lady and gentleman as he was passing by. She in old clothes, but clean replied back. “Hello,” looking at the stranger with fascination. Her companion nodded a short nod, his face and hands stained from most likely, underground work.

“Would there be a place around here to get myself a possible breakfast?” Asked the Goldsmith.

“Keep on to the third house down there, see it, where the fellow has just come out of. That’s Mammie’s place. She cooks for the whole village if need be.”

With a grateful nod the Goldsmith carried on to find the smell of fresh cooked bacon, bread and so much more leading him into a small but cozy cottage turned into eatery. Noisy chatter of the locals showed this was a favorite spot as he sat down at the only table left.

Soon he was met by what he assumed was Mammy. A short, stout woman with a large smile. It was nice to see a smile after the many snubs he had encountered. “Hello! Good morning!” she stated with a hearty laugh. “You must be the stranger everyone is talking about lately! What can I get ya?” she said with a grin.

Without hesitation, she poured a large cup of coffee for the Goldsmith and put the thick cream on the table. The gesture encouraged the Goldsmith as he felt his appetite return. Soon enough he was eating one of the best breakfasts he had ever enjoyed. Homemade bread, lathered with butter, cooked saucy beans, eggs, bacon and a big bowl of fruit.

He looked out the small window, to see the stretched out sunbeams warming the wild fields, lush and green. An occasional pot of flowers brightened the streets in the dirty village. His heart was encouraged as he began to think of the legend that brought him so far from the easy life he had known.

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