Nowadays, he went by “Howard”.  One of the biggest disadvantages of immortality was names – they kept changing.  If you didn’t want to stick out like Pegasus in a field of donkeys, you had to keep changing your name to keep up with the times.  Even this name was starting to get dated, but there were still enough Howards around that he wasn’t too concerned…at least not yet.

The thing that really had him concerned, though, was his occupation.  He was a blacksmith.  Always had been.  He couldn’t even begin to imagine doing anything else, but smithing was a dying art.  As it was, the only place he could find work was at a small museum dedicated to pioneering in Western Canada.

Back in the Golden Age…before he had left Greece, he didn’t have to hide his true identity.  He was, after all, one of the gods of Mt. Olympus.  He was worshipped by everyone, but especially by those involved in the smithing trades.  Now there were fewer and fewer smithies.  It was as if the ancient and venerable art of blacksmithing was falling through a crack and disappearing.

To make matters worse, the museum curator had just told Howard that, due to budget cuts, the museum smithy would now be just for show…as of the end of the current season, his services would no longer be required.


A tear slid down his cheek – a tear that felt as hot as the fire in the forge.  Perhaps it was time, after all, to change his name again.  Maybe he should even go back to his original name…after all, the ancient names seemed to be coming back into vogue again.

Yes.  That is what he would do.  He would change his name back.  Hephaestus.  Hephaestus the obsolete god.


Written for the Trifecta writing challenge.  This week’s challenge was to use the 3rd definition of the word, “crack” (as per the Miriam Webster Online Dictionary)

(photos taken by they author of this post at the Saskatoon, SK location of the Western Development Museum)