Passion of the Liger

Chapter 13

When Narteb arrived back at his house, he got a small shock, because gathered outside was a big crowd of people. Many were carrying torches or lanterns and from a distance, they looked like a bunch of fireflies. When Narteb approached, he heard one of them call out, “Narteb’s back!”. The group murmured as a whole and a few of them came up to him and offered their condolences. It was all a bit of a blur for Narteb who was still in shock and didn’t quite know what was going on.

“Where is my mum?” he said.

“She’s inside the house,” said one of the villagers.

Narteb walked to the front door and went inside. It was the strangest feeling. He had gone through that door countless times, but this time he was feeling a mixture of nervousness and trepidation. What would he see when he went inside?

There was already quite a few people inside his house, standing around. One could almost mistake it for a party; the big difference was that no one was smiling. It seemed that most people were gathered in the living room, so Narteb made his way there.

And then, he saw it.

In the middle of the room, was a stone statue.

It was unmistakable; it was of his mother.

Narteb’s entire body went cold.

So it was true… his mother had been turned to stone!

Two people in particular were standing close to the statue. One was a brawny, muscular man, with an orange bristly moustache and shaggy orange hair. He was Boris, the village stonemason. The other was a plump lady, with a round face, and small, but kind eyes. She was Helga, Boris’ wife.

“There’s no way you can convince me that this is Ginessa,” said Helga, “It’s a stone statue. People do not get turned into stone statues.”

Boris circled the statue, eyeing it carefully. Occasionally, he would reach out and tap the stone with a fingertip.

“There’s no way this could be a statue, Mum.” (Boris had a habit of calling Helga ‘Mum’ or ‘Ma’, even though she was his wife) “Look at the detail on this. No one can make a statue this detailed. Look there are individual eyelashes made of stone!” He peered even closer, inspecting the statue’s face. “Look! There’s even nose hairs in here!”

“Boris!” said Helga, “Don’t be talking about her nose hairs!” She was about to say something else, when she turned and saw Narteb.

“Tebby!” said Helga.

All the eyes in the room turned and looked at Narteb. It all went silent; nobody knew what to say to him.

Narteb walked up to the statue and examined it. He was amazed. From the tiniest of wrinkles on her face, to the look in her eyes; if it really had been sculpted by someone, they had captured her perfectly.

He reached out a hand and touched her cheek with his fingers.

Cold and hard.

…and something else.

Narteb was startled. Something strange happened when he touched her! He suddenly got a feeling that his mothers spirit, or essence, was somehow inside the stone; that she was still there buried deep within. There was no way he could have explained this, but it was just a feeling that he had. And it was a strong one.

“This statue is my mum,” said Narteb quietly, “I’m sure of it.”

And now, there was only one thought in his head.

He had to fix this. He could not let his her stay like this.