Statue (579 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.83 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jocelyn W. <snow_weaver.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2008-07-26 13:21:00 EDT
The first time she sees it she's nothing more than a little girl dressed in Sunday school clothes, clutching her mother's hand like a lifeline. Its strong, sleek shape captures her attention; it's the first time she's been introduced to any semblance of human nudity. Her ideas of self are limited to what she wears instead of what she is inside or outside.
As her mother chats, she quickly takes in the dark, looming form of the statue, her gaze tracing the bulging lines of his calf to the muscles of his thigh, past the weird bundle at his midsection to the strong lines of his jaw. It takes less than a few seconds, but she feels rude, intrusive, and averts her gaze.
Impulsively, she presses grubby fingers to the tip of its toe, leaving smudged imprints in the humid spring air, a ring of half kisses already fading. A giddy sense of euphoria bubbles up in her. For a brief moment in time, she feels inexplicably connected to this statue - it's so tall and still in the sunlight, unlike her.
Eventually, she's tugged away by her mother and doesn't think of the encounter for many, many years.
The next time she visits she's alone. Full of half-innocence and energy, she teeters on the brink of adulthood. She's dressed provocatively with sharp jeans and a low hanging T-shirt. The baby fat has transformed into lean muscle and soft curves. No one would deny the fact that she has grown into a relatively attractive woman. She secretly revels in the power of drawing men's gazes from their wives.
The statue hasn't changed, but in her mind's eye it might as well have turned from stone to flesh. Gone was the intimidating factor of height, the looming dark figure threatening to swallow her whole. Gone was the cool polished surface which drew her gaze so many years ago. Gone was the casual serenity it seemed to radiate - it no longer seemed to fit into the background. Instead, in her mind, it has become obscene in its nudity, larger than life, a glowing beacon of shame on an otherwise flat plane.
She rips her gaze away, suddenly uncomfortable.
A few minutes later, she gathers up unreasonable courage. In the heat of the moment, she stands tall, closes her eyes, and sticks her tongue out as a gesture of disrespect.
She feels larger, stronger, as she twirls around and prances away.
As the years pass, it's no longer amongst the foremost things on her mind. It gradually sinks until it's nothing more than a pale shape in her memory, tucked somewhere between flimsy dreams and past goals. It resurfaces periodically, unbidden and unwelcomed, as she does the mundane, repetitive tasks she has decided to dedicate her life to. It's like an old scar in her mind, healed but never quite gone, hurting in the damp weather and blistering heat.
The third time she visits she rubs the polished wedding ring on her finger with her left thumb, over and over. Hesitantly, she lets her eyes stray up his form.
She notices how lovely, beautiful, surreal the statue is - a perfect specimen of the male gender. Everything is proportionally perfect, from his muscled calf to the rippled abs sitting naturally at his waist - and oh, yes, even his reproductive organs weren't spared the effort put into the rest of his handsome form. She feels intrusive as she stares.
He's not drop dead gorgeous, but with a twinge of respect she vows to stop comparing him to her husband.
She takes the liberty of resting her back between his legs, leaning into the cold stone but feeling warm as she stares out into the autumn sunset.
The fourth time she visits she is strangely proud to see he has gracefully withstood the mark of time.
Thin, web-like cracks crawl along his surface, half translucent and only visible when the sun strikes at a certain angle. But they're there all right, proud badges of his age. She feels them more keenly than she feels the cold lapping at her arthritis stricken hands.
She doesn't glance shyly at the statue before averting her eyes, doesn't press hesitant fingers to the base of its calf, doesn't breathe in shallow pants for fear of drawing attention to her supposed depravity. Instead, she sheds her inhibitions like a second skin.
She is reborn.
For the first time in 67 years, she stares. She undresses his flesh, peels back the layers of grime and chipped marble to reveal beating organs. She takes in the artistic lines of his form openly, unflinchingly, unabashed. She presses firm fingers and draws herself close to his form in an intimate embrace. It feels like a breath of fresh air, a revival of sorts. She hasn't felt this rejuvenated in years. Hoisting herself onto his pedestal, she plants open kisses along his jaw and the edges of his eyes. The world becomes muted around them.
Only when her curiosity is fully sated does she tear herself away.
Slowly, she grasps her cane with gnarled fingers. She pivots and hobbles down the snow-strewn lane in that peculiar crouch time and age have reduced her to. She turns her head but still feels the weight of his stony gaze resting on her back.
She doesn't visit again.
User Reviews
Submitted by tatersninja (user info) at 2008-07-28 00:44:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2008-07-27 23:44:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by billrhine (user info) at 2008-07-28 01:33:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-07-27 10:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Spam FTW
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What's FTW mean?? I keep seeing it.
I can't read that. The last line was shit and it was written by a woman (no offense).
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2008-07-27 23:44:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by billrhine (user info) at 2008-07-28 01:33:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-07-27 10:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Spam FTW
Submitted by billrhine (user info) at 2008-07-27 11:33:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-07-27 10:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Spam FTW
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2008-07-27 10:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Spam FTW
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-07-27 09:23:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-26 17:34:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-07-26 21:54:17 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore the idiotic advice below.
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That was constructive criticism asshole.
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Constructive or not, it was still idiotic advice. Use of colloquialisms is an effective tool to get the reader invested in the characters. While this may have been written in the 3rd person, it's still supposed to be a description of things as the woman sees them, hence using the phrase 'he wasn't Drop dead gorgeous' isn't really the omniscient narrator's point of view but rather the main character's that it's describing.
This poster obviously knows what they're doing and for you to offer advice and critique - especially as misguided as this - is tantamount to The Spice Girls telling Mozart how to write a symphony.
But, you know, if you'd rather just trade lame insults than defend yourself, that's fine cuntface.
Submitted by TheBrad (user info) at 2008-07-27 04:18:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Statue of David? art is painful.
Submitted by experima (user info) at 2008-07-26 20:22:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
bravo
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2008-07-26 18:40:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Agree...carry on...
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-26 17:34:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-07-26 21:54:17 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore the idiotic advice below.
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That was constructive criticism asshole.
Submitted by SunnyG (user info) at 2008-07-26 17:17:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
a first post that isn't total crap!
good good..carry on
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2008-07-26 16:54:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore the idiotic advice below.
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-07-26 15:10:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
He's not drop dead gorgeous,
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I liked this but try and avoid colloquialisms when you're writing descriptive text setting a scene and creating atmosphere. This nearly killed it.
Also, welcome.
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2008-07-26 13:59:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Welcome. Continue.
Submitted by HateMudkips (user info) at 2008-07-26 13:30:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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