It was only small groups initially, but, soon enough, the backyard would get flooded with visitors. Folks from the upper district came all the way down here, some of whom offered to pay obscene amounts of money for my statues. A tempting offer, but I wasn’t ready to be separated from my babies quite yet. Then, I found out that denizens from neighboring cities were traveling to Sköllhyala just to see my creations. It wasn’t until people showed up speaking foreign languages that I realized I might have made it big. Soon enough, the house’s yard started to resemble a tourist trap. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
While tending to the guests, I spotted in the corner of my eye someone who’d been gazing at one of my sculptures for quite a while. A lone woman with beautiful curly hair who wore an aquamarine shirt. She seemed a bit aloof, staring quietly at the piece with her hands behind her back and a deadpan expression on her face. I decided to approach her.
“Do you like it?” I asked her.
“I love it”, she gushed. “They’re all brilliant. What technique even is this? I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like it before.”
“It’s metal. A whole bunch of it, all welded together.”
“How did you manage to do that?”
“Oh, it’s a long and arduous process. I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.”
“They’re so… beautiful…”
I was about to thank her for the compliment when, much to my confusion, she suddenly bursted into tears.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked her. She made an attempt to reply, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying due to her sobbing. “Stay here, I’ll go get some tissues,” I told her.
I then rushed back inside. We actually didn’t have any tissues lying around, so I tore a handful of pages from some notebook and handed her those instead.
“Sorry you had to see that,” she said while wiping the tears off her eyelids with the paper sheets. “I don’t usually break down in public like this, I swear.”
“No worries. I wish I had some proper tissues I could give you.”
“That’s okay, thanks. Ugh. I’m truly sorry. My life’s been a bit of a bumpy ride lately.”
“Boy, do I know the feeling. Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s just… I’ve always wanted to be a sculptor. Ever since I was a little kid. I ended up instead working as a clerk in a bait shop down at the fish market. I was miserable, so I quit. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to finally start chasing my dreams. I practiced really hard every single day so I could get into Hackett Academy and become a great artist. But then I sent them an application letter, and… let’s just say, things didn’t work out as I expected.”
“Hey, don’t beat yourself over it. Besides, you’re not the only one who got turned down by them. I’m a Hackett reject too!”
“They turned you down? How’s that possible? You’re, like, a total pro.”
“It was my fault, actually. I botched my live demonstration.”
“You should consider yourself lucky. I never even got to the live demonstration part.”
“How come?”
“They told me I could never be accepted into their college because I was ‘too old’. Can you believe it?”
“What? Hang on, how old are you?”
“I just turned twenty last month.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s ridiculous!”
“Yeah, well, people warned me they’re a bunch of elitist jerks. Shoulda listened to them. Anyway, I made enough of a fool of myself for one day. I’d better be on my way. Thank you for listening.”
She then started to walk away. For some reason I couldn’t even explain, I felt the urge to keep her from doing so.
“Wait!” I shouted.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to… y’know, learn more about welded sculpture?”
“You mean you’ll teach me?”
“Sure. I’m not the best when it comes to describing my process, but… I could show you how it’s done, if you’re interested.”
“Of course I am! That sounds wonderful.”
“Come back this time tomorrow, then. I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Awesome. Can’t wait! My name’s Ninet, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Ninet. You can call me Rags.”
Suddenly, I saw Bastian poking half his body out of one of the house’s windows. “Rags, come here for a second!” he yelled, so I went back inside. “You’re all over today’s gazette!” he said as he handed over the paper to me. I took a glance at it and saw an article discussing my sculptures. It seemed quite favorable. Words like “groundbreaking” and “revolutionary” were thrown around a lot. There was one bit I particularly enjoyed — it read as follows: “In the past few years, this kingdom has faced many adversities. A devastating crisis. Socioeconomic segregation and civil unrest. The threat of war looming on the horizon. With the newly found optimism that inventor Andrea Flintlock’s discoveries have brought to our land, there’s no better chance to look back upon not only what we’ve lost, but the beauty that has derived from these trying times. One fine example of this is a collection of statues made entirely of metal scraps, created by a local young sculptor who goes simply by the name ‘Rags’, and has chosen to display them free of charge in her own front yard. This humble journalist elects to think of these works as not mere sculptures, but a symbol. A symbol of creativity born in a climate of turmoil. Of grace under pressure”.
Not all were glowing reviews, though. There was one critique as well. This part was written by a certain lady whom I’ll not mention, but it described my work as ‘overflowing with lustful energy’, and claimed that it was ‘made by a degenerate whose purpose is to threaten our moral values and stir the very foundations of society’, amongst other gems.
“Geesh,” I said to Bastian. “Some people truly cannot handle nudity”.
Suddenly, we heard a knock on the front door. We thought it’d be about the statues, but, much to our surprise, it was none other than Andrea Flintlock, who was wearing a fancy suit and a top hat.
“Hey, Rags!” she said.
“Dree!” I replied as I gave her a big hug. “It’s been forever since I last saw you! How’ve you been?”.
“Not bad, my friend. Not bad at all. How do ya like my new tycoon outfit?”
“You look like you’re on your way to commit massive tax fraud!”
“Oh, stop. You’re gonna make me blush. Sorry I haven’t come to say hi in a while, I’ve been quite busy. Being a freelancer is more stressful than I thought. The one good thing about being the royal inventor was knowing I’d never be out of steady work. Can’t say I miss it, though. What about you? And what’s the deal with that crowd in your backyard?”
“They’re just visitors. They’ve come to see my metal sculptures.”
“You’re a sculptor? Huh. I thought you were into holistic medicine or something.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a sculptor my whole —... hang on, what made you think I was into holistic medicine?”
“I dunno. You gave off the vibes, I guess. Hey, I have something for Bastian, is he home?”
“Right here!” Bastian said as he came closer. “Hey, Dree! Long time no see. What brings you around?”
“Hey, partner,” said Andrea to him. “You ready to become a millionaire?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that I have a big fat check with your name on it. And many more to come.”
“Um… I’m confused. What’s going on?”
“Wait, you’re saying Rags didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Oh, right!” I said. “I totally forgot. Andrea needed to patent her electric thingamajig and I asked her to put your name in as co-creator instead of mine.”
“…You did what?” Bastian babbled.
Suddenly, Bastian collapsed motionless on the floor.
“Oh my God!” I shouted. “Bastian’s dying!”
Andrea laughed. “No, silly,” she said. “He fainted. He just realized you turned him into potentially the richest man in the world.”
“But he’s diabetic!”
We stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.
“…I’ll go get a doctor,” she said.
* * *
We took Bastian to the closest hospital as far as we possibly could. Dree couldn’t stay, unfortunately. She had a really tight schedule, but made me swear that I’d write her as soon as Bastian got well. I managed to get Doctor Wakeman to treat him. I know I called him dumb before, but he’s actually a great man who cares a lot about his patients, so we’ll keep it within you and me, okay?
Not even an hour later, Bastian came to. He was a tad pale, but other than that, he looked perfectly fine. I sat next to his bed, holding his hand as he slowly got his bearings.
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” I told him. “You had us really scared for a while.”
“Can you blame me?” he replied. “After dropping that bomb on me, you’re lucky I didn’t kick the bucket there and then.”
“Can’t argue with that. Say, what’re you gonna do now that you’re rich?”
“First, I’m going on vacation. A very, very long vacation.”
“Where to?”
“Everywhere. I’ve always wanted to travel around the world. Visit every kingdom known to mankind. And I’m buying a mansion, of course. Wait, even better: a castle! A whole castle in the countryside, all for myself.”
“Well, if you’re moving out, can I keep the hardware store? I need more room for my metal sculptures, and the shed’s kind of cramped.”
“Sure. Heck, I’ll put your name on the deed if you want.”
“Sweet!”
“I really still can’t believe what you’ve done for me, Rags. If you’re ever in need of money, just let me know and I’ll —”
“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “All I need to survive is coffee, and it’s cheap.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you insist on buying those crappy sugar-roasted beans.”
“I happen to like the taste of overburnt sweeteners, thank you very much.”
“Seriously, though. What I mean is, if you ever want something, anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out, okay?”
“Thanks, B, but I already have everything I could possibly want.”
“What if you get bored of sculpting metal?”
“Then I guess I’ll just find something new to sculpt.”
I stayed with him a while longer, until Doctor Wakeman told me it’d be better if I let him rest. He said Bastian should stay in bed for the day, but should be able to resume his activities the next morning.
When I came back home, I found Ninet, from the other day, sitting in front of the entrance, along with a girl I didn’t recognise. She had slanted eyes and pink hair, and appeared to be about the same age as her. They both had notebooks and pencils, and stood up immediately upon seeing me arrive, so I figured they’d probably be here for the lesson. I‘d completely forgotten about it, what with thinking Bastian’s life was hanging by a thread and all that jazz.
“Good day, master,” said Ninet rather nervously.
Heh. ‘Master’. Now that’s a word that’s gonna take some time getting used to.
“Please,” I said. “You don’t have to be so formal.”
“Very well, then. I brought a friend. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all!”
“Great. Her name is Keiko. She's a taxidermist, so she has some background in sculpting. Come, I’ll introduce you to —... oh, no. Don’t tell me she’s wearing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not some ritualistic stuff or anything like that,” she said, which only served to raise more questions.
It didn’t take me long to figure out what Ninet was referring to. It seemed this Keiko girl had on her some sort of… miniature skull, hanging from her neck by a thin chain. It had tiny fangs, yet remarkably big eye sockets. Didn’t look human — not that it made it any less creepy.
Ninet got close to the girl. “What did I tell you about the cat skull?” she whispered to her.
“Oh, leave me alone,” she replied. “He was the only creature that ever understood me.”
“Hey, I get it,” I said, as I joined the conversation. “If Dusty ever died, I’d probably carry around his remains in some way too.”
“Who’s Dusty?” Keiko asked. “Is he a cat?”
“I wanna say ‘no’, but I’ve no idea what he is exactly, so I guess he could be a cat for all I know.”
“I like him already.”
Ninet cleared her throat. “Anyway, I told Keiko about you. She's eager to become your student as well.”
“Oh…”
“Is something the matter?”
“No, it’s just… well, I was thinking, maybe it doesn’t have to be that type of relationship necessarily. Y’know, a ‘teacher and taught’ kind of thing. I mean, I’m not here to evaluate you. Or give you guys homework — ew. That’s what those Hackett guys’d do. We can be just a gathering of people doing what we love and learning from each other. And maybe I could guide you a little bit along the way. I’m not sure there’s even a word for that.”
“I believe there is.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“A mentor.”
Upon hearing that, I couldn’t help but tear up a little bit. Something about that specific string of letters being spoken out loud made me incredibly emotional. It reminded me of someone, and what he meant to me when he was still around.
“Yeah,” I said to her. “That sounds way better.”
“So… shall we commence?”
“Come right in,” I said as I opened the door for them. It was hard to ignore the fact that this was still very much a hardware store and not a workshop of any kind, but I’ll have time to iron out the details later. I mean, this place could certainly do with a little makeover. There’s a ton of things I’d like to get rid of — but not the scent of fresh paint and lumber. That’s definitely staying.
And, with that, I think it’s about time I wrap this up. I just noticed I’ve only got a few drops left in my inkpot, and ink is a commodity that’s hard to come by around these parts, so who knows when I’ll be able to keep telling my tale. But there’s some more journals that haven’t seen the light of day in a while — it might be time to wipe the dust off them. Especially that one. That’ll surely give Mrs. Haslam a real reason to be outraged.
The winds of change are a-blowin’. I’ve come to take comfort in that. It’s not a bad feeling once you get used to getting carried away like a paper napkin. After all, it’s hard enough to come up with one great invention, but it’s even harder to learn how to reinvent yourself.
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