The Swan and the Tinkerer (fantasy/fairytale)
Once there was a tinkerer, and
though his shop was small, he was known the kingdom over for his beautifully
delicate metal work and magical workings of his devices. He had even created a
dancing music box for the princess; it did not just spin in a circle to the
tune but moved as if alive. His gears were smaller than any other tinkerer of
master skill, and his metal work was so thin its weight did not match its
materials. The tinkerer had a daughter who was his entire world outside his work,
but the poor dear was born with so many melodies of bad health she could
neither walk nor did she have hopes to become a woman. He called her his Swan.
Swan’s only world was her small
bedroom which her father attempted to make as pleasing as any park, but it is
hard to forget one is unable to leave no matter the beauty around. Her favorite
thing was the oversized window her father had put in giving her a wonderful
view of the swan lake. She knew joy in the frolicking of the swans, but just as
intensely she felt the sorrow of their absence during the winter.
It was during one of those winters
her health grew worse than any before and the tinkerer was in fear that he
would lose his swan.
He called in the most of famed men
of religion, but they only stood over her and prayed with shaking heads. “We
are sorry, but she will be with her creator soon.” This did nothing to comfort
the tinkerer.
He called in the greatest men of
learning, doctors fit for the king himself, but they too only poked and prodded
with shaking heads. “We are sorry, but her body is beyond repair.”
He called in the witches, women with
knowledge of nature, but they too only burned their herbs and shook their
heads. “We are sorry, but the mother earth calls her back to her womb.”
But I am a tinkerer, her
father told himself. I make and fix things. It is upon me to fix my Swan.
He took on no new work but instead set to creating the most beautiful
life-sized swan. His blood from small cuts from the hair-thin hammered metal
infused with his swan. His tears fell upon the gears as he fit their tiny teeth
in line. His prayers for his daughter’s life instructed the mechanical swan to
be her savior. Every ounce of his love was used to create the most beautiful
swan for his Swan. If he could not save her, he wanted her to have her own swan
instead of those far down in the lake.
On the first day of spring the swans
returned to the lake and the tinkerer turned his daughter to see. A small smile
crossed her face, but they did little more to return any health to the child. The
tinkerer kissed his daughter on the cheek and whispered, “I have a gift for you,
my Swan.” He rolled the frail child to face into the room where the beautiful
metallic swan sat; its majestic wings folded around itself. The smile
brightened with the love in her heart for the gift her father brought. “Let me
wind her up so you can see how beautiful she is.”
The tinker squatted down to the swan
and turned its key around and round. The sound of springs coiling tight and
gears fitting together covered the sound of his daughter’s last breath. When
the tinker pulled the key free and stood the swan unfurled its wings as
graceful as any of the swans on the lake. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he
watched the swan furl and unfurl its wings four more times, the limit of its
eternal mechanics. He turned to see his daughter’s smile, but he instantly knew
she was gone. Collapsing onto the bed he holds her; tears escape his eyes and
gasps of sorrow his lips.
Hours passed but he could not let go
of his Swan. Then the metallic sound behind him wakes him from his mourning. “Impossible,”
he gasps. The swan unfurls its wings and moves around the room. The tinker’s
hand pats his vest’s pocket and feels the key remains where he placed it. He
gently laid his daughter back to her pillow and kneels in front of his
creation. Its eyes, of which he did not give the swan, shown back at him with
life, and he knew this was his Swan.
The tinkerer took his Swan to the
lake knowing this would be her biggest joy. She swam around the lake which he
did not create the swan to do. Every day he visited his daughter and would tell
her of his day, what devices he is making, and how she was the talk of the
village, his mechanical swan more realistic than any other tinkerer has ever
created. She was happy. No prison bed to hold her but her own lake. She got her
wish, and her father gave it to her.
Then one day her father did not
come.
The Swan spent her days swimming
circles unsure why he never visited anymore, but also sorrowful knowing he must
be no more.
Years passed. The lake was made a
park. They called it Tinkerer’s Pond but other than the old no one remembered
why since its main attraction was the mechanical swan that swam there. As
decades passed the Swan slowed and lost its shine, but she never once forgot
her father or the sorrow of losing him.
Then the last spring sprung, and the
last gear turned, and the swan could no longer hold Swan. She looked up to see
her father standing on the shore and he motioned her to him. She walked to him,
and he took her hand in his. “It is time to go home my Swan.”
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