So,

January is here again and with it the Januariad in which a few intrepid writers post new fiction to their tumblrs every week day in January. The rules are that the piece must be complete and must have been written that day. New work starts tomorrow.

For tonight, I am re-posting one of my favorites of mine that was turned out last January. And for those of you following, these are the other participants. They’re all incredible and I’m honored to be among them.

• http://distorte.tumblr.com/
  
• http://goldenmesh.tumblr.com/
  
• http://jackrusher.tumblr.com/
  
• http://mollyculetheory.tumblr.com/
• http://thejanuaryist.tumblr.com/

The Statue

1.

“Has anybody seen him?”

“No. I think he’s holed up. Not answering his phone or the door.”

“Well, what the fuck?”

“Relax. You know what he’s like.”

“Yeah. “

“And you know he hasn’t been working lately. Maybe he’s hit the groove again. “

2.

Chips of stone fell like heavy snow, crunching under each step as he orbited the block. His hammer and chisel sliced each flake to the ground and he paused only to shuffle them from under his feet. 

Soon, he had to stop using his eyes, running his hand across surfaces to hunt out the last rough spots.

And then there she stood, her eyes and smile were three pools of grey. He had a thought to paint her, but discarded it. Using iron strips, he bent and flexed each into shape, drilling and riveting them down, clothing her frame in an industrial hoop skirt and bodice. Athena in her armor, but Aphrodite in her smile.

3.

“So you saw him.”

“Yeah, finally snuck in the other day.”

“What’s he building in there?”

“It’s beautiful. Terrible. Unlike anything he’s ever done.”

“That’s amazing. Did you ask him what’s going on?”

“I… That is, I couldn’t…”

“What? Spit it out.”

“I just watched. I didn’t want to get too close. It feels… thick in there. “

“What are you talking about?”

“I felt like if I wanted to get closer, I’d have to swim.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

4.

Smooth and finished, she looked proud in her black iron and gray smile. Within a week, he was leaning away from her whenever he was in her part of the loft, detouring at absurd lengths not to disturb her. He knew he was doing it even as stepped over a coffee table for the eighth time that day, but he couldn’t stop.

5.

“So, now what?”

“Well, he asked me to come over and help him get her out onto the balcony.”

“Her?”

“What?”

“Nothing. So the statue’s outside now, huh?”

“Yeah. And he’s building a basket around it.”

“A basket?”

6.

“I’m sorry,” He said to her one night, “But you have to go.”

Not a gallery or a private buyer, though either would have her without blinking, he thought, no, she needed to fly. So he built a basket around her until she stood inside it with an amused glint in her eyes that he didn’t remembering carving. 

“Soon.” He whispered.

7.

“A hot air balloon? You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. It’s nearly finished.

“What’s he thinking?”

“I have no idea. You can’t even imagine what it’s like over there anymore. That place even feels crazy.”

“I’m sure.”

8.

An armada of proper hot-air balloons and still she would not lift off. Cords tethering them to the basket thrummed with potential energy and he plucked one as if it was a string on some strange upright bass. 

“Why won’t you go?” He asked.

9.

“So? Any news.”

“Yeah. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“I went to his loft. The place is empty. The balcony doors are open.

“What about all those balloons and that damn statue?”

“She’s gone too.”

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know.”

10.

Shoving and kicking at the basket, he heaved, straining his spine to the snapping point, thinking that maybe she was like a bird that needed to be tossed into the air before she took flight. That glint in her eyes, her grin, seemed sharper.

Growling he looked into the basket, wondering if maybe she’d put down roots or something. Stepping into it to get a closer look, he thought maybe he’d riveted the thing into the floor on accident.

As he swung his legs over the side, a strange weightless feeling came over him as the balloon lifted off. The building dropped away below them with stratospheric speed as he lunged to get hold of something.

Within a second it was too high to jump. Racing about, he untied balloons, and after several had gone, their ascent eased. How many more would he have to let go before they could drift back down safely, he wondered.  

Frustrated, he looked at the statue. “You did this.”

But his eyes only met those of cold stone, her body wrapped in bent iron and rivets of steel. Below them, the city was a smear on a ground of gray and green and the rushing sky was the blue of an inverted ocean.