Short Horror Stories

The sculptor

Day and night he worked.

Day and night he was busy creating his masterpiece.

A sculpture.

With a perfection no human could reproduce within its own kind.

It took a long time, a lot of effort and energy.

When finished the sculptor was drained of both life and spirit.

Silently he spoke to his creation: "By God, I truly outdid myself this time. Unfortunately none will ever be like you and always be more like me. As an imperfect creature I am lacking everything that you have."

Suddenly the clay started to move and the perfect creature spoke to him.

"Dear father, I am thankful for that you created me with so much love. If there's anything I could do for you, any wish you want granted. Please, do tell me."

At first the sculptor was shocked for he had never seen something inanimate talk before, but he quite quickly accepted it.

"My dear, I have no need for money nor for fame. I don't believe there is anything you can grant me."

"Oh, did not mean something as trivial as that. I meant actual change."

The sculptor did not understand, perhaps he was too imperfect to and thus remained in silence.

The sculpture continued: "I know how much you crave perfection, I can give it to you if you so wish. Perfection is an everchanging process, it remains forever the same and yet it changes all the time."

"But how are you to grant me such a wish?"

"I can make your body like mine, you can change it whenever and however you wish."

"Are you sure it is okay for me to receive such a gift?"

"You gave me life, no gift is big enough nor good enough."

"Well... if it's okay..."

The sculpture bowed politely.

Then it smiled perfectly, raising its perfect arms up in the air.

"Please accept my humble gift."

It was truly a miracle.

Once the sculptor got his wish he went on to work.

He tried many different faces.

Different noses, different mouths, different eyebrows, until he too believed to have become perfect.

While the sculpture decided to travel the world, his creator was busy with his social life.

Whenever someone would bother the sculptor about his appearance he would change it again.

The same he did for when he got inspired.

It didn't take long for him to be known as a man of perfect perfection.

He was happy again.

He had spirit again.

But times change, fast and quick whenever you least expect it...

One day he met a young woman.

She was not beautiful like the statues, nothing worthy of being called anything like a Goddess.

She seemed simple at first glance, but something about her was much more beautiful than anyone could look like.

People loved her for her kindness and her most genuine self.

Something not everyone seems to be capable of wearing.

The sculptor too felt it, the warmth in her eyes and her beautiful vision of the world around her. Her love for all things small and natural. Making it all the more lighter.

It wasn't long before the sculpture was head over heels for her and he decided to confess.

"My apologies sir, but we are complete opposites. You are one of visual beauty, something created and I sense fakeness in your demeanour. Again my apologies, but those are my true feelings. I do feel for you, but am not of the belief that I would be able to share and return the same level of affection."

She continued her apology, but he could no longer follow it.

It was true what she said.

He had given his face away for another.

A perfect face, a façade.

Could it be that his true face was gone?

Immediately he decided to try and find his creation, but no matter where he looked or went, the perfect creature was never found or heard from again.

Panicking he tried to change his face himself with the help of a mirror, but alas he had long forgotten what it had looked like.

Hopelessness grasped him as he tried and tried to change his face back to the way it was. Old photos anything he could possibly use, but it never truly returned to what it was.

Unfortunately, clay dries eventually.

His face started showing fracture.

It was slowly breaking apart, into more and more pieces, until the only thing that was left was dust.