Knocks in the Cold

The sky was vast. Its light, from the morning sun, cast a yellow tint that surrounded the cold dirt and grass, which flickered with fog. The path to the central hub of the village began with a dirt road. The many homes surrounding the village were made of wood; a few were large. The deeper one went, the larger the buildings grew. These were mostly made of stone—some under reconstruction, but most still wooden. The central tower, once used by the local village lords, was now home to the main officers of the Alden Empire's army. Blue suits covered the area with guard. Around them, local villagers opened their stores, preparing for the day, knowing business wouldn't grow much.

Entering the central hub, my eyes barely open, I had no clue where to go. My only desire today was to find a job of some sort—and get paid in bread grains alone.

Walking into a store with a sign on the building's roof—it looked to be either a smithy or a place for nuts and bolts.

The door was wide open. As I stepped inside, I called out, "Hello, is anyone in here?"

"Hello, I would like to work—"

Bang.

I stumbled back, almost out of the store.

"Hello?"

A man stood in the center, at least six feet tall, smoke and dust clinging to him like a second skin. He looked like a bomb had gone off in his face.

I noticed his hands—they seemed prosthetic, made of metallic silver. His hair was dark, his eyes deep blue. No golden ring. He wore a leather shirt and pants, worn and stiff with soot.

"What are you looking at? Is there something you need?"

"Yes, sir. I'm looking for a job."

"A job? Ha! You think you've got what it takes to be a machinist?"

"A what, sir?"

"Did you not read the sign? This is where weapons are made. All kinds, boy."

"Now, if you want a job, you need to be able to read. Even if I said I would—" he muttered, cutting himself off.

"Wait, read? Well, about that, I..."

Bang.

His foot hit me hard in the chest, knocking me out of the store.

"Get the hell out of my sight! Never come back! I don't give handouts!"

Boom.

He slammed the door behind me.

I stood there, face tight with anger. That old man didn't even give me a chance. Sure, I can't read—but I can learn.

"Damn it..."

It's fine. I could try again. What's so important about being a machinist anyway? I kept walking. My rule was simple—if a door was open, or if light spilled out from within, I'd walk in.

I came across a building with only script written across the front. No image, no clear sign. But it was open.

"Hello? Is anyone in here?"

The smell hit me immediately. A mix of greenery, wet grass, and the earthy scent of fresh soil. It smelled like vegetation, like worms after rain.

"What is it?" a woman called out.

She looked to be around sixty, maybe older. Her hair was gray, her eyes dark blue. She wore a brown scarf and an apron that wrapped around her thin frame.

"I'm looking for a job," I said, trying to smile though my hair probably covered most of my face.

"You want a job here?"

"Yes?"

"Can you read or write?"

"I can't... is that a problem?"

Bang.

The door shut on me again. That was the third—or fourth—time.

"God damn it!"

I shouted, frustration boiling over. This place was awful. But I had to keep looking.

I passed the tower and even spoke with some soldiers, asking about work. Every time, the same question came up—could I read or write? I knew lying wouldn't help; they'd find out. But it was tempting.

I knocked on doors, stepped into buildings I didn't recognize. The longer I wandered this village, the stranger it felt.

This world wasn't Earth. I'd thought it was a medieval time period or something close. But I was wrong. The soldiers had guns. There was light—but it wasn't electric. It ran on something else.

Eventually, I stopped trying to guess which buildings were stores. I left the central region, heading closer to where I stayed. Maybe these were homes. Maybe not. I didn't care anymore.

I just knew one thing.

I wasn't going to die of starvation.

Knocking on the door of a wooden house, my hands fumbled through my pockets. It was getting colder. My feet were freezing.

The door creaked open. An old lady stood before me.

My heart sank. Damn it... I'm screwed again.

But this time was different. She greeted me with a smile."Hello, child. What do you need?"

"My lady, I was hoping to find a job... but it seems my travels have led me to the wrong house."I stepped back, lowering my head. This is it, I thought. Tomorrow I'll have to start all over—maybe dance in the streets for food or something.

"Wait," she said, stepping out and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder."I think I can help you."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "Before you say anything... I can't read, my lady."

"Oh dear, well that's alright. You can learn," she replied, still smiling.

"I can't write either."

"That's fine too. You can learn that as well."

For the first time, I prayed—prayed that whatever god was watching me, this woman wasn't cruel or insane. That maybe… maybe I had a chance to live in this world just a little longer.

"Now come in."

I stepped into the gray wooden home. This time, when the door shut, I was inside.

And with that, I took my first real step in this world. It was hard.