After Ten Years Of Chopping Wood นิยาย & เรื่องราว

This time it went well. It chopped a small wood as he nodded. “Impressive,” he said. “Wow!” I squealed. “I did it.” “Focus.” He said. “Give it another go.” I turned around and picked up the axe again, making sure I aimed right this time before swinging down. The next log then split in half. I gasped, “I did it!” Kieran nodded, “Good. Now do it ten more times.” “What?!”

The sun is high in the sky and shines directly on the headstones. A Warrior. A Friend. A Savior. Tears stream down my face as I dig my fingers into the grass. “Ten years,” I sputter, “I can finally say goodbye after ten years.” I lay sobbing on the ground for what feels like hours before I can stop the tears. I wipe my eyes on my shirt and breathe deeply. My face is probably red and puffy and my hair is no doubt full of dirt and twigs. “Who’s the third one? The one with the golden wings?” I ask. My voice comes out as a painful rasp.

However, he was only starting to understand what triggered a ‘zing’ sound effect when his last blade shattered. “What am I going to do now?” Zen sighed and plopped onto the stump that he was previously chopping wood on. Should he return to the blacksmith and ask for new disposable weapons to chop wood with? That would be troubling Ben too much, even if he was an NPC. Zen didn’t want to appear as someone inept and unable to do a simple task. Then again, chopping five hundred firewood couldn’t be considered a simple task at all. He looked at the number of successfully chopped firewood logs and sighed. There were still over four hundred logs to chop, and Zen already spent an hour doing this wit

The old man found an axe from the cabin, then he told Wilbur to chop some dry wood at the back of the cabin to be used for cooking later. Wilbur picked up the axe and went to the back of the cabin, finding a pile of neatly placed wood. Wilbur picked up a large piece of wood and placed it on the stump before starting to chop up the firewood. However, the axe was instantly knocked away the moment it hit the wood. Wilbur let go of the axe because he did not expect that outcome at all, causing the axe to fall to the snowy ground.

Killian The loud noise that resonated from somewhere in the house violently yanked me out of my impromptu nap on the couch and the words. "100!" Flew right out of my mouth as I rolled off and fell face-down to the ground. Fuck. I groaned, using the coffee table as leverage to get my sore self back up. My eyes blinked a few times and without a doubt, I knew I'd slept too long. Crap. Still trying to process exactly how I had fallen asleep, I dug my phone out from underneath me to check the time but a message sent by Hope twenty minutes ago popped up on my screen.

And how the fuck did they get my brother's number? Jake struggled to get the materials through the door. I watched him in awe. How much he has grown. One minute, he was a scrawly teenage boy obsessed with words and stories and now, he is almost twice my entire size and mass. He's still obsessed with words and their arrangements to form stories but you get the point. It's been ten years and that's a lot of time. Ten years of constantly holding in the pain. Of grieving. His shoulders might be firm and wide now, enabling him to lift heavy loads but I know that they slouch every time he thought about them.

HERA. Thunk! Sweat dropped from my brows as I kept cutting wood with a heavy ax. Well, it wasn't so heavy but with how I had moved from a position where maids were at my beck and call, this was a fucking downgrade. But that didn't really matter right now. Not even the splinter that pierced through the other surface of my skin. I pulled it out and continued to split wood, sweat pouring down my back. Once I was done, I gathered the wood in my arm and took it to the furnace where I usually cooked, dropping them all to the floor and looking down at my palm.

“Did you fall in love or something?” His comment took me by surprise, but I was fairly confident that I didn’t show it when I asked him how his foot was feeling. He’d suffered a gash that required twenty-five stitches while attempting to chop wood with a dull axe. Between his age weakened strength, the dull blade of the axe, and the knot in the piece of wood he was attempting to chop, he was lucky that he had a foot left to stitch up.

Kate’s eyes popped open curiously as Colton’s clammy hand retreated, the wicker creaking as his weight eased. “I’ve got to go and chop some more wood for tonight. I don’t think we have much left,” he smiled, stooping down to kiss her before stretching out, pulling one arm atop the other to unhunch his coiled shoulders, twisting his torso from side to side, the crackle of his bones filling the air as he jogged down the short staircase. Halfway across the dewy, emerald grass, he halted at the stack of logs and an ax buried into a thick, chipped tree stump. She giggled as she recalled the morning they’d arrived, her joy at the cliché decoration that adorned the quaint backyard. It wasn’t until

he called without turning, voice warm with amusement. I stepped outside, barefoot on the weathered planks, carrying two mugs of tea steeped with pine needles and wild honey. “Can you blame me? I spent thirty years watching you shoulder the weight of a nation. Now I get to watch you chop wood like any other man.”