english,
A young statue maker sits in front a hearth, with a chisel and hammer in his hands. His mind concentrated on the Alabaster, thinking of what he could carve next. He looked around his workshop and saw all the statues he created. They all have the same distinct features mature and symbols of beauty.
He sighed, stood up and touched the stone.
Inside the boy’s heart, he longed for something more than sculpting. A family he lost, that left a gaping hole in his heart. He closed his eyes and imagined the last time they had dinner, the day they passed away in an accident. Laughing, smiling, his mother in his father’s arms, the warm bubbly feeling of happiness.
With a gentle strike, he began to re-create what he lost.
He decided to divide the stone in two, the left side for his mother and the right for his father. He first created his mother’s face. Different from her usual tenderness, he created a sharp look. Her eyes had fierceness you could see from a mother protecting her children. Her lips were in a state of mid-sentence like how he remembered his mother’s scolding whenever he would bring stray cats home. He created her right arm in a manner of reaching out to him. It reminded him of her strong will to keep them safe and healthy, a woman knowing no bounds for the sake of her family.
He started to work on his father next, on his face was a proud smile. He remembered when he finished his first statue, how happy his father looked and how he couldn’t stop patting his back. The father’s eyes were gentle and caring, eyes that easily teared up. The young man created his father’s right arm to look like he was going for a hug. He reminisced about the bear hugs his father was famous for. Hugs that made him feel safe and protected.
He stopped, took a step back and cried.
The statue was halfway done but he could see how everything used to be.
His mother was leaning to the side of his father’s. Their hands are reaching out to him, calling out to him, reminding him that he was loved, even if they’re already gone. He hugged the statue and called out to the heavens to bring them back. He sobbed and wailed, a mere child, facing the world alone. In the statue’s arms he felt warm and safe; the gaping hole in his heart has now been filled.
Literary: Facio
A young statue maker sits in front a hearth, with a chisel and hammer in his hands. His mind concentrated on the Alabaster, thinking of what he could carve next. He looked around his workshop and saw all the statues he created. They all have the same distinct features mature and symbols of beauty.
He sighed, stood up and touched the stone.
Inside the boy’s heart, he longed for something more than sculpting. A family he lost, that left a gaping hole in his heart. He closed his eyes and imagined the last time they had dinner, the day they passed away in an accident. Laughing, smiling, his mother in his father’s arms, the warm bubbly feeling of happiness.
With a gentle strike, he began to re-create what he lost.
He decided to divide the stone in two, the left side for his mother and the right for his father. He first created his mother’s face. Different from her usual tenderness, he created a sharp look. Her eyes had fierceness you could see from a mother protecting her children. Her lips were in a state of mid-sentence like how he remembered his mother’s scolding whenever he would bring stray cats home. He created her right arm in a manner of reaching out to him. It reminded him of her strong will to keep them safe and healthy, a woman knowing no bounds for the sake of her family.
He started to work on his father next, on his face was a proud smile. He remembered when he finished his first statue, how happy his father looked and how he couldn’t stop patting his back. The father’s eyes were gentle and caring, eyes that easily teared up. The young man created his father’s right arm to look like he was going for a hug. He reminisced about the bear hugs his father was famous for. Hugs that made him feel safe and protected.
He stopped, took a step back and cried.
The statue was halfway done but he could see how everything used to be.
His mother was leaning to the side of his father’s. Their hands are reaching out to him, calling out to him, reminding him that he was loved, even if they’re already gone. He hugged the statue and called out to the heavens to bring them back. He sobbed and wailed, a mere child, facing the world alone. In the statue’s arms he felt warm and safe; the gaping hole in his heart has now been filled.
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