The Anvil That Knew He Was Falling
By Jill N Davies
Maybe it was the acceleration—the sudden interruption of inertia. He didn’t know. But there was a sudden realization of awareness. He was falling.
There’s no way to tell for certain if anvils are sentient under normal circumstances, but this particular anvil, on this particular day, sitting stagnant on the Farrier’s bench experienced a moment of true enlightenment.
There was a flash of adrenalin. A neck-whipping centripetal acceleration as his whole form twisted—if he’d had a neck, that is. He could feel the grit and splintered surface of the bench as it pulled away below him. He could sense the change in light as he moved away from the blank, dry-rotted wall. In the moment before he pitched downward he caught the surprised look on the Farrier’s face.
It was as though all the world had frozen in time except for the anvil. He had decades to take in the stunned man—his curious green eyes with pupils that expanded and contracted at the intake of information. The coarse, rusty colored beard that nearly covered lips frozen in an “o.” A black leather bib covering a dusty shirt and worn jeans. In his left hand a hammer with a flat face. His leather-clad right hand outstretched toward a metal U, suspended in mid-air and still glowing hot.
What happened? He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember what came before falling. There weren’t any thoughts, no memory. Only this moment. And what a wonderful moment it was.
The world pitched and turned away from him as gravity took over. Whatever had upended him has also tilted him on his vertical axis—his top, or what might be the head of him, was on its way to becoming his bottom.
He lost sight of the man first. His startled mouth fading up into his nose until the bright eyes pitched out of sight. Then the glow of the metal U, which wasn’t actually motionless—just moving at the same rate as him—spun away. (Or rather, he spun from it, but we can forgive him of this error, as he’s only just come into consciousness and understanding).
It was a devastating loss. These two things were his whole world. They were precious. But missing them was short-lived. As he turned a brilliant light filled his vision—filled him. It was warmth. With it came the springtime breeze that rustled in the far off grass. Grass that he could now see out the wide-open double barn-door. Green and tall with seasonal growth, and reined-in by the chipped wood fence that went out as far as he could see.
Sounds came into life all around him. Not just the rustle of grass, but the song of a dozen birds—the clack and ping of the Farrier’s movements and the far off noise of a sputtering tractor engine. Wheels crunching on gravel, the scree of a hawk… and above it all, the whinny and neigh that was somehow both new and familiar.
Horses.
They were right there—inside the fence that housed the boundary of the anvil’s world. A mare and her colt—dark coats glistening in the springtime warmth. A petite Roan shaking its head at a pair of galloping Bays. They were beautiful, every one of them.
And then he understood. Watching the roaming steeds, their feet pushing, digging, tearing away from the ground—this was his purpose. His calling.
Their shoes. The U in the air. The pounding. The Farrier’s song, always the same.
It filled him with a profound joy. To see, to understand. All the world was open to him in an instant.
And then came the landing. Ground broke below him as though it were liquid before compressing into a thousand particles of resistance. Dust flew into the air, carrying with it the pieces of a thousand jobs—bits of him, bits of shoe, dust, pollen, horse hairs and metal fragments so small they danced on the current of rising heat.
The hollow clank of metal against metal sounded simultaneously as the horseshoe struck his bottom, ricocheting off before thudding to the ground next to him. He saw it in that moment—a bent and twisted version of what it could have been, smeared in dust.
He looked beyond it to see the beauty that was in its purpose—the bent leg powered by incredible muscle and grace. How could he have ever existed before knowing this world?
He liked everything about what had just happened. The falling, the spinning… even the landing. He especially liked the seeing. The hearing and the knowing.
He didn’t want it to end. He was terrified that he would go back to before. To nothing.
Would it all fade away?
Would he forget?
Would he know, but live forever without?
He didn’t know what was worse.
The return was smoother. Warm hands against cool metal lifted and spun him. He saw in an instant what was before—the wall. Dry rot and nothing. Sound without context. Dread. He was powerless to do anything about it.
Then, in the last second there was another turn. A hoisting sound escaped the man and then he was set. Only it wasn’t like before. He was turned on his axis, facing outward, taking in the warm spring breeze. Light and sound. Horses galloping.
Maybe he would fade yet. But for now he had the world.
The Farrier retrieved the twisted shoe from the ground, considering it before tossing it aside. He walked out of sight to put a new strip of iron into the forge. The song would begin again, and this time the anvil would sing with it.
Come back next week for another installment of Flash Friday!
Sign up for my mailing list for updates on bigger projects. Click the link to sign up and get a sample of Due North, releasing on May 26, 2020
To Pre-Order Due North on Kindle