Anyway, let’s go back to the present real quick. After all, I learned from my neighbor Mr. Chéjov, who runs a gun shop, that no loose end should be left untied. Huh. Didn’t realize until now there were so many weapon stores in my village.
I arrived home from my trip to Sköllhyala later that same day. Dusty was there to welcome me. He hadn’t taken a dust bath in two days, which I’m not sure if it technically made him dirtier or cleaner. I carried the carving stone across the main hall, where I keep the sculptures of my most cherished characters: Simone the Druid, Lucas the Gargoyle, Flamberge, and the mischievous snake lady, who was totally not based on a real person I once met. I sculpted them all in green marble, which makes them extra special to me since green is my favorite color.
Then, I dropped the stone off in Mr. Otis’ room. He was lying in his bed, coughing on a napkin and barely able to turn his head to me. His skin looked pale and, in contrast to that, his eye bags seemed darker than usual.
“You’re back at last, my child,” he said. “How was your journey?”
“I had fun,” I said as I got ready to work on the piece.
Before getting down to business, I took a few minutes to do some stretching exercises. A long sculpting session can take a toll on your body, so it's really advisable to do this in order not to hurt your joints or become tired quickly. Also, I couldn’t start without my daily cup of warm, freshly brewed coffee. Mr. Otis always tells me I should lay it off a bit; he claims developing an eye twitch due to massive ingest of caffeine at such a young age can’t be normal. You’d think a fellow artist would know better than to say such nonsense.
After that, I grabbed my chisel and mallet and put on my apron. Preparations were complete. “This is your commission,” I said to Mr. Otis. “So if you have a specific request, I’ll be happy to oblige. But, if it’s all the same, I already had an idea in my mind for this piece.”
“All I want is to see you sculpt,” he replied. “I’m sure anything you do will be wonderful.”
And so, I began doing what I do best.
Now, I’m no teacher, but I’ll try and summarize my working process. Stone carving, as opposed to, say, clay sculpting, is about what’s there as much as what isn’t. So, first step is to carve out the chunks and bits of stone we won’t need. Removing the excess until the overall shape of the sculpture starts showing. Hit the end of the chisel strongly with the mallet, but be careful not to overdo it, lest you break something unintentionally. It’s hard to find that sweet spot at first, but once you do, you can’t unlearn it. For finer details, you can even lose the mallet entirely and use only the chisel. If the stone you got is good enough, you can just scrape it off as if you were removing an old grease stain from your frying pan. This allows for a much smoother carving, but it’s also quite taxing on your wrist, so take frequent breaks.
Once you’ve got the basics down, the absolute most important thing is to get the pose right. Especially the face and hands; you see, because of the way us humans communicate and interact with each other, those are the two places people tend to look at first, so they'll surely notice if they're off. It’s a good idea to draw some sketches on paper so that you don’t go in blind. The final step is polishing the carving as much as possible. I'm usually not satisfied until it's silky smooth, and this will be no exception. Also, be sure not to inhale the dust that comes off the stone as you sculpt it. Keep several windows open or do it outside if possible. Jeesh, all these health hazards must sound terrifying. I better stop yapping now before I scare anyone away.
Not gonna lie, I did get a bit nervous at one point. I noticed my pulse was starting to get shaky as beads of sweat ran down my forehead and palms, but I did my best to get a hold of myself. Like I said, my mentor's patience is not a virtue he’s ever managed to teach me.
Once I was done, I stood there completely still, staring at the sculpture in awe. Heh, sorry. It might sound like I'm bragging, but I wasn't looking at it to admire the brilliance of my own work or anything like that. I was just… contemplating. It was all finally starting to sink in. This man, the closest thing to a dad I ever had, would soon be gone and this sculpture was everything that'd be left of him in this world.
“It’s finished,” I said. “What do you think?”
He smiled. Then, with what little strength he had left in him, he put his hand on my head and gently stroked my hair, as he would usually do.
“It’s marvelous,” he said.
I tried to hold back my tears, but it was hopeless. I dropped the chisel and the mallet on the floor and ran off to my bedroom.
"Rags!" Mr. Otis said. "Where are you off to?"
* * *
There were no big words or emotional speeches in our final moments together. We just enjoyed each other’s company for as long as we could. It’s the only way he would have wanted to spend the last of his days, and no-one could’ve ever changed his mind.
I got the news from the doctor the morning after. It was what I expected. Didn’t make it any easier, though. Not one bit.
For once, there was no gossip around his passing. All of Brümsgundy seemed saddened by it. Even though he didn’t go out much, he lived there long enough to be respected as part of the townsfolk. I could tell Dusty would miss him an awful lot too, which is saying a lot since he isn’t very good at conveying emotions.
As for Mr. Otis’ sculpture, I moved it to my room…
…Where he can stroke my hair forever.
The end.
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