''Mom, I'm home!''
The empty house echoed his greeting, leaving the man unanswered.
In the air lingered the faint scent of the woman who had left the attic the night prior.
He walked to the room behind the kitchen, a space that once served as a pantry.
It was the only room, besides his bedroom, that on the floor had parquet tiles. The man took off his shoes, knocked once and entered.
''How was your day?'' He kissed her lightly on the cold cheek, before brushing her hair.
''I'll heat up the kettle.''
Soon, the water boiled. He poured it over the vanilla scented black tea, his mother's favourite.
In the former pantry the air conditioner was always on at 12° Celsius.
Once opened the first drawer of her dresser, he wore her cardigan. ''I hope you won't mind.''
The man placed two cups of tea on the tea table of her room, where she was sitting, patiently waiting for him.
''Today was a nice day. The breeze was nice. Do you remember the woman I brought home two nights ago? We had breakfast together this morning. I showed her a nice place, and she seemed to enjoy the freshly baked croissants I suggested. She liked the most the Croissant aux Amandes, the one with the almonds that you always ask for on your birthday.''
The antique gramophone was playing Wagner Der Ring des Nibelungen, one of his favourite epic music dramas.
He changed her bed every week. On it rested two fluffy cushions that he had bought not too long before. He pointed at them, ''they're comfortable, aren't they? Should I get you new ones this week?''
He pondered, ''maybe some pink ones to match the walls this time...'' He chuckled, ''I know you don't want me to spend money on you, but I like spoiling you.''
At that moment, his phone rang. ''It's her, look - he showed his mother the screen - be quiet.''
Clearing his throat, he hesitated before pressing the green button. ''Hello?''
''Hey, it's me. Did you miss me?''
He shot a knowing glance at his mother, ''I did. I was thinking about you. Have you made it safely home?'' She had. He followed her to her front door, after all.
She chuckled lightly, the blush could be heard in her voice. ''Of course I did. What are you up to?''
''I'm drinking some tea. You should sleep now, or you'll sleep during your shift.''
She was no stranger to dozing off at work, yet she thanked him for the advice and bid him goodnight- ''well, not goodnight, good day for you, and good rest for me''.
She seemed rather pleased, so he hung up and resumed the conversation with his mother.
Soon after, he replaced the cardigan in its place, kissed her cheek and locked the door after bidding her a good day.
Just like the woman, he was pleased with how things were going.
Sure, he wasn't able to create a new statue just yet, but he would eventually.
Meeting her was new, fun. It was the first time he had played so much with his creations, and hopefully the last, he added.
He walked down the corridor, placed his finger on the scanner and entered the refrigerated cell they had been to that morning.
The taxidermy process was ultimated for all three figures.
A woman, an old man and a frail child.
He seldomly worked with children, but his father came to him begging to save his son's cancer-consumed body, so that he would still maintain a bit of his human dignity in his last breaths.
Choosing his death, instead of surrendering to the illness.
Transforming the end of a life into the beginning of a new one, that was what he did.
It took him almost an extra month just to add back all the little hair on his head, on his eyelashes and eyebrows.
"Hello little Mathias", he greeted him before bringing the rigid statue to the art room.
"How do you like your hair? It looks just like new, doesn't it?" The man stroked it, and felt pleased by the faint smile immortalised on the child's face.
"Today we begin our waxing process, isn't that exciting?" Perhaps he was more excited than little Mathias.
He poured a mixture of Japanese wax and beeswax into a large container.
He dipped a cotton cloth in the mixture, and thoroughly massaged the boy's skin with it.
"You see, this is like priming. Girls do it with make-up too. They use a primer, and then the tint to colour their faces. Here, I am preparing your skin with a very thin layer of the wax mixture, so that you are ready for the thicker layers with the brush."
He loved his occupation.
When he entered the art room, all thoughts in his head cleared. He finally knew peace, silence.
YOU ARE READING
The wax figure
Mystery / Thriller"Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures." - Henry Ward Beecher. So does our protagonist. With the purpose of giving new eternal life to the people around him, he creates his masterpieces. A life devo...
