The old carpenter led the village children to the edge of the woods and showed them what he had been building in secret during the spring months.
The little wooden house stood proudly and a bit crooked amongst spindly trees. Inside wooden furniture and soft finishing the carpenter’s wife had made give the place a homely feel. And for a few minutes you could imagine a family of small people living there.
The children laughed, they thanked the old carpenter, ‘danke, danke!’ and rushed off to play.
The carpenter watched them for awhile, sadness growing in his heart then he turned and went home.
His wife was dozing by the fire, a shirt she had been mending sliding off her knees. The carpenter sat down opposite her and she awoke with a start.
‘The kinder like the house,’ he said.
‘Good, I’m glad,’ his wife replied.
A heavy silence fell between them, disturbed only by the fire crackling away. They were each lost in their own thoughts, imagining the children they had never had.
(Inspired by; https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/09/29/sunday-photo-fiction-sept-30-2018/ with thanks).