The Sculptor's Masterpiece. Chapter 1

The time had come to begin, slowly, savouring her heightened awareness, she hovered the chisel along the surface's edge, chest height.

She glanced about the rock erratically checking that it wasn't a conjuring of her famous imagination. She was familiar with marble but this sparked a shiver of elation. An efflourescent complexion riddled with pink and blue veins entwining and scattering as they pleased. The metamorphic marble looked delicate to the eye and perfect for a human figure.

Intuition told her that this was the calm before the storm, the time for her to shoot from the ground and reveal her true colours.

But she couldn't do it alone. Twisting her head she curved her lips into a sigh to her partner. Unconsciously reading the glint in her eye, he examined the marble and agreed. 'I'm in'. If she was to blossom he would join her in a visual symphony. Always.

They were the creators, the liberators. The masterpiece awaiting inside patiently to be released and breathe the fresh air. The sculptors breath syncronized into an echoing chord...

Tap, Snap, the masterstroke produced a fist sized chip which chattered on the floor breaking the tension.

The hardest part for them was over, the sculptors lasped into a steady rhythm. They knew the steps to the next sequence.

The chisel was in constant motion, slicing pieces of effortlessly creating bass notes. Tap, tap tap... the sculptors danced around the stone, smoothing it with callaused hands, swirling again. In staccato. Then slowing. The chisel passing between them, slowly, surely, the stone evolved turning smaller.

10 years of eternal dance subsided. Fatiqued, they studied the result, just like a snowman made by a child. simple and abstract but imagination rounded the snowman.

The sculptors were contented, giving each other a nod they placed the chisel in it's hands. A true masterpiece had to define itself; they had done their part. Their efforts were rewarded, by the release of the sculpture.

It understood and carried on, the masterpiece was not complete. Not yet.