The Stoneman (English Version)

Statue's Awakening

There is a statue my family has retained ownership of and cared for during many centuries. Supposedly it is of a great grand relative of some type who helped establish our family's wealth by forgotten means, and who helped establish the regional government. Whatever entire significance the important figure had once is now all forgotten, however, the statue still remains. It remains passionately prized; half of my family is obsessed with it for reasons I cannot understand. That half of the family we believe has an inherited gene for mental illness, while the other half, the half that I side with, is equally accused by the other half for having the same. A mental illness, passed down for generations, just like this strange statue of a man none of us know or knew. I must add that it is an odd thing and it will stress my point about the excessive care and attention my family has given it. I should mention how the crucifixes of the mansion are neglected, and yet this statue, this stone man, is cared for as though it were alive. As though the stone itself were bone, skin, muscle, and flesh. They tended to it as though it were a child, they bathed it, decorated it, let me be frank, they nearly worshipped it.

For years this obsession like madness continued, bringing the statue to private events and family affairs, as though the colorless lifelessness in its eyes could see the events and take pleasure in them. I swear I was waiting for one of my relatives, maybe my dear crazy aunt or uncle to bring a sandwich to its face, as a child does to a doll. However, nothing quite that ridiculous was ever displayed.

Now as the years passed I noticed something peculiar in the face of the statue one night when my eyes were heavy and my glass was full of wine. I noticed that the face had aged. Now I do not it mean aged as stone typically ages, with its fractures and weathering, it's crumbling, nothing of the sort. No I mean it aged as a man ages, its hairline receding, its face seemingly wrinkled. How could this be I wonder?

Not wanting to hear any criticism or anything ridiculous from my family I hid this observation from them, and later I would hide even the statue from their eyes. Before I knew it, I too had become afflicted with the madness. I would study its surface and watch it privately for hours; I would repair every blemish and keep it immaculate. It was not long before I realized that I had become its primary caretaker, in fact, its only caretaker. What a prison sentence it was that I put myself under, what an unwritten curfew I confined myself to. The perimeters, the limits, the time dedicated to that lifeless rock...lifeless...or so I thought.

When I was all that remained of my intimate family and the final individual who lived in the mansion, I alone remained with the statue. I swear to you I would hear it run around at night, its heavy weight thudding across my property, always outside my door, daring me to come outside, or to invite it in.

I know how it sounds, but it's true, and I know better than to ever invite evil in. Evil cannot access our souls, our safe domains, anywhere, unless we allow it. So we must stay strong...I...I must stay strong.

As further time passed I could not bear the burden of this secret, I understood why my family was obsessed with this thing, because it was alive. I wished to rid myself of it, but I dared not destroy it, maybe it wanted to be destroyed, to set whatever evil was inside free. I know better than that, I will not unleash it from its stone cell, it cannot fool me.

So I began to donate many works of art my family owned, hoping to one day develop the strength to banish the statue eventually; just as I donated many of the works of art of the property simultaneously to different universities, hospitals, and other institutions.

My actions were done in fear which I disguised publicly as generosity. A generosity that caught the attention of a prestigious doctor, and his gorgeous daughter who is my age and was a pioneering scholar, very different from many of the women I know, she was special.