New Shoes- Part Five

The weather that morning was poignantly monotonous as the sky came to be cloudless, and the wind blew vehemently down the townlet. Dozens of birds chipped away harmoniously in the remote sky. Though the atmosphere was moody, nothing could stop the buoyant crackles of the creatures in the sky.

And at the farther end of the town, stood a tall-bricked bell tower - impoverished in its feature. A watchman - barely in his mid-fifties, wearing a sunken expression of a blobfish and a chocolate cloak around his body with a pair of brown leather boots, was painted to a station on top of the building. He scanned the horizon of the town- Aetherwatch - his emerald eyes ceasing to function in sight while he modified his rounded-rimmed glasses. In his hands was an hourly chime, which he tightened between his fingers as he followed the tick-tock of the clock until the ninth hour of the day was struck.

At the top of the tower, there were wet spots that hadn't dried out and were still engaged with water. The 'Watchman' had to move in triangles to resist the dank ground. Lowering the hourly chime clock to the side, he took out a golden horn from the insides of his cloak.

Then, he arranged the brownish funnel-shaped cornet to his thinned lips, his calloused fingers belted around the geriatric body, as he blew a loud honking sound to the land - An indication for the locals to be assembled in the church and to convey Thanksgivings and tithes to God.

It was the everyday culture in Aetherwatch.

He blew a first time, and stopped, mumbling words to himself. He blew the second time, and stopped, looking up at the sky. Then again, he blew for the third and last time, dropping the horn to fold his wrinkled hands together as he prayed diligently for five consecutive minutes. When he was finished, he took a light step and headed toward the giant bell wiggling at the top and making a known sound to the villagers.

After a while, the watchman soon baulked from the tower. He wasn't the one that dwelled day-to-day and night-to-night, watching over the village. He had only a job - To blow the hourly chime for the first hour of service in the church. He was a priest but others mistook him as the watchman. He didn't blame them as he similarly took the name a consideration.

As he was through with his customary tasks, the priest held a parchment close to his chest. He declined his cane to the ground, a support to his dragging steps. As the elderly man took his feet to the church, he saw a lone figure in the corner of his eye. Quick to recognize the statuette, he craned his neck to the side to get an accurate check of the person.

She is here early? He asked himself selflessly. He clothed a look of sadness on the statuette. He got the news of that kind and hardworking baker's demise late at night. And to think of the family's sorrow, he could only pray to God to give them the strength ought to - most especially to that child.

His drowsy emerald eyes flickered on the sole figure for a certain duration before he sighed, lifted his feet, and cruised himself to the church. Such a tragedy she had to face at such a young age, he thought.

The lone figure the priest had just sighted was Harriet.

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In the middle of the market.

Marinette wandered to the shop of the shoemaker - a small rectangular shop by the end of the market and banged her fist against the cracked oak door. The door was smaller in size but able to fit her when she penetrated. Looking around, fidgeting her fingers in the suffocating street where every eye lay on her, Marinette sighed deeply. The memory of how she fell into the arms of Peter reminisced. It was all her fault. If she had stopped Gabriel that morning from delivering the bread, would he have survived that tragedy? She believed he would have.

"Oh! It's you, Mrs. Chowbury! I still find it hard why you still use your parent's surname instead of your husband's. I should mind my own business, right" An average-looking man was standing outside the door, his eyes cat-like and white. He was a blind man, but strangely he could see the world perfectly and all that lived in it. Holding the morning's newsletter in his hands, and flapping each page, a frown settled on his forehead.

"Ah, Mr. Scissorsly, how has your morning been?" Marinette greeted, expressing a fake smile. She entered the shop as the man welcomed her in. Inside the shop, she could scent the odour of wood and smoke filling her nose, causing her to sneeze a little. The shop was a mess with shards of shredded timber everywhere and nails, and pins littered on the floor. Being understanding of the hard work put into making a shoe, the woman couldn't complain. Marinette pressed on the ends of her skirt as she pushed herself, resisting the dirt.

"Not very much welcoming" Replied the shop owner. The old man arched his raised brows as he interpreted the restlessness on his customer's face. He reckoned she was dazed by the rumors about her late husband.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Scissorsly placed the newsletter on his working table - a considerable table for his treasury calculation and collection of books. He took the chair by the table and passed it to the nervous woman - who appeared out of the world.

"Tailor! Tailor! There's a customer. A special one, so bring in the newly made shoes" Mr. Scissorsly cried out to his assistant while giving Marinette a pleasant smile, in which the woman returned. Mr. Scissorsly took his eyes away from the woman and finally said "Sorry for the loss of the baker. He was a kind man" and patted the chest as if lifting some kind of hurdle from his chest. He knew he had to convey his condolences to her.

Immediately, the fake smile daubed on Marinette's countenance faltered. She became uncomfortable as memories of her happy moments with her husband kept flashing back and replaying continually and ceaselessly.

"T-Thank you for the concern, Mr. Scissorsly" Marinette spoke calmly, hiding her turbulences.

At the other door of the shop, which was a thick red one; a young boy, sixteen of age sauntered out, carrying wooden boxes occupied with eyes-catching shoes. Seeing this, Marinette quickly rose to her feet to offer the young boy a helping hand as what he was carrying was heavy for him.

"No worries, Mrs. Chowbury, I can handle it. I am a young man after all" The funny words of the boy made Marinette gobsmacked and brought a smile to her face. It was the first time after her husband's tragic death, her lips were curled upward. She could feel his determination.

"I can see you are becoming a man indeed" Marinette proposed. She went back to the seat given by Mr. Scissorsly and sat down, drowning back in her thoughts.

Tailor blushed bashfully, looking away from the beautiful woman. His flustered face turned redder after her comment, and he felt embarrassed.

"Damn child! Hand the quantities to Mrs. Chowbury and remember that she's a married woman no matter what!" Mr. Scissorsly scolded the boy who was fumbling restlessly in front of his crush - a woman young enough to become his mother. He shook his head tiredly as he couldn't help but feel exhausted after the headaches this young boy had inundated him.

"Yes, Mr. Scissorsly" Tailor complied, raking his hand through his raven hair. He started exhibiting the newly made shoes with standard solemnity and indeed the shoes were all lovely, meandering from a ribbon shoe to a leather boot, and just plain rubber. Marinette was spacing out a lot in the introductions but since this was for her daughter, she bought the most long-lasting and worthy, which was a leather pink shoe with sparkling ribbons laced into the hollows.

Harriet would love it.

Outside Mr. Scissorsly's shop, Marinette kissed the man's cheeks and muttered "See you again, another time."

"You too" The blind man replied, returning her kisses. He refrained from speaking his mind inside when he detected her dull face. The woman was lovely and sweet. To lose a man more important than life itself must have been gothic to her.

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Marinette lodged the local carriage to get home. On her way, she observed keen eyes on her. Pulling the shawl over to her head, she tried her best to ignore the unspoken glares.

"Harriet must have returned home."

When she entered the house, she went straight into her daughter's room. Her eyes blurred, and tears coursed down.

"My baby!"

Her daughter was back.

She was very emotional.

"You came back, dear. Where were you, uh? You scared Mama. How did you injure your face? It must have hurt" Marinette said, caressing her daughter's hair "Remember this, Mama loves you more than anything and nothing will ever separate us" The woman spoke confidently like it were a vow.

But what she failed to understand was that nothing was certain. Everything in life came at a price and one has to face lots of challenges before any happy ever after.

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In the capital of Aetherwatch, on street occupied by creatures of the night, a distance away from the lower-class village, inside the manor of a lord.

"Are the preparations done?" A cold, detrimental voice inquired of from the butler beside him. This person was holding a gun and shooting at the sky at the back of the house. No matter the circumstances of his actions, he kept shooting out bullets into the sky, causing birds to squeak.

"Yes, My Lord, the invitation will be sent to the receiver as quickly as possible. No mistakes in any part" Replied the butler.

"Good" The Lord was satisfied as he shot through the air until a bullet finally struck two of the birds flying away in the sky to join their family. Unfortunately, they were heartlessly slain.

"Oh, how I love the perfect points! Killing two birds with one stone" The Lord grinned dangerously, his gun set back into his pants. His copper-brown eyes were dark and brooding.

Tucking his hands into the pocket of his slacks, he precautioned.

"Make sure there's not a single mistake when bringing my bride home. It's about time the children earned a new mother and me, a new bed warmer."

"Yes, My Lord" The butler bowed his head respectfully until his Lord was out of sight.

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A/N

Author here. How have you been? Doing well? Eaten well. Please be safe and healthy.

Who is that Lord and what are his agendas? Let's find out in the upcoming chapters.

Please review and vote with power stones. I'd appreciate that.