Today’s prompt: “A local invites you to share in their daily work or hobby. What do you do together?”
Today’s music: Lag Train But It’s Lofi, by venvn. 🎧 Listen on SoundCloud.
A Shared Experience
The wagon eased its way through the countryside from Hearthlight and back toward the town proper. Hollis was driving; I was riding shotgun on the bench seat. The horses didn’t act like they needed to be driven; they ambled, the slow, methodical clop of their hooves something you could fall asleep to.
Which is why I’d had about thirty coffees before we set out. Hollis had asked if I wanted to help, and I’d hopped aboard before really thinking about it.
“They’re not all the same,” he said.
It broke me from my reverie. I did a quick scan. It was just us out here. “The horses?”
He snorted. “People.”
“Well, sure,” I agreed. “We come in all shapes and sizes.”
“You do.” He didn’t say anything for a spell, the horses doing their horsey thing, before he added, “Which is good.”
“So you don’t get us mixed up?”
“Because you do ‘wonderful’ in different ways.”
“Eh.” I eased back against the seat. “Are you really two hundred years old?”
“No.”
“Older?”
“Yes.”
“Fair enough.” I looked up at the sky. It was a clear midmorning blue, a few fluffy clouds in no more hurry than the horses. “I don’t know if that’s right.”
“I’m really that old—”
“No, not that,” I said. “I’ve no real opinion on your age. You do you, old timer.” That got a sideways glance that was growing into a glare, so I hurried on. “I don’t know if we’re that different. We come minted from the factory in more or less the same shape. We grow to be about the same size. And no matter whether we’re rich or poor, life hands us hardship and joy, riddles and wonder, and the odd magical hamlet.”
He grunted. “I’m not sure I can do this much longer.”
I straightened. “Thinking about retirement?”
“Death,” he offered. “No, don’t be alarmed. It’s not going to happen tomorrow, but it will happen. I’ve seen a lot of people, and I think… well, I think you might be right.” He gripped the reins a little tighter, although the horses weren’t uppity. “I tell myself you’re all different, because that’s how I used to see it. But I see people like you do, now. And… that means it might be time to go.”
“Jesus, Hollis.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I thought you were going to say something like, ‘I’m ready to die because I’ve done enough good’.”
“Would that make you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“Not always about you,” he confided.
“Are you trying to get me out here to change your own mind?” I frowned. “If you’re a wizard over two-hundred years old, your mind might be like cement.”
He laughed. “Do they still tell stories about wizards being able to turn people into frogs?”
“That’s more of a witch thing these days.”
“Wizards can do it too,” he said.
“Point taken.” I leaned back and looked at the clouds some more. “Do you want an apprentice? Is that why I’m here?”
“You’re here because you’re dying of sadness,” he said. “I’m here because…” He trailed off. “I’m not sure anymore.”
“You’re here because you can fix broken people,” I said. “Right?”
He sighed. “We’re going to meet someone at the train. Just like I met you a couple of weeks ago.”
“They’re your new apprentice?”
“They’re tired,” he said. “So tired of it all. They’re tired of how long coffee takes, and how short chocolate bars have become. The time between laughs wears them down. The tightness of breath when they walk too fast trips their steps. It’s life they’re tired of. Life, and the living of it.”
“How do you know they’ll be at the train?”
“I don’t.”
We travelled on, the horses paying us no mind, while I thought about that. About how Hollis was here, trying to help whoever it was who was too tired to go on. And how he just said he feared he hadn’t got to them in time, and how he was ready to go himself. I wondered about whether I was tired about how long it took to make coffee, and how long it’d been between laughs before I got here. I sighed. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
“An expert on fault, are you?”
“More of an expert at hitting myself in the face. I don’t see you stepping on any rakes.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I think I do,” I cut in. “But whether they’re at the station or not… I’ll still be here for the ride back.”
He sighed, as if it were a great weight I’d taken. But I hadn’t done anything. Not really.
Or… had I?
Roll result? One tired wizard, one willing passenger, and a wagon hitched to something heavier than horses.
XP gained: 1 shared silence, 1 moment of stubborn grace, and +1 to not-letting-people-give-up saves.
Ready for Day 15?
Hearthlight isn’t just a town—it’s a state of mind. New entries drop as often as the real world allows (with full narration if your eyes are tired).
If Hearthlight has helped you exhale a little, consider tossing a coin to your narrator. Your support keeps the tea warm, the metaphors flowing, and the cat sufficiently bribed.
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