Chisel

Always at 9 am he would start his work in his studio. Molding, sculpting, shaping, giving life to mounds of clay.

A perfectionist in every sense, while his studio was filled with his prized creations, in a small nook hidden away from his workstation contained heaps and heaps of rejected work. Not by any critics or jurists, but by him.

A slight disfigurement, a small dent, an unwanted fingerprint, all were reason enough for him to cast away his sculptures, although the finished work would adorn many famous art galleries.

Such was his command and dedication towards his craft. He took in plenty of apprentices who showed promise but none of them matched his determination and dedication. They never made it past two weeks.

His admirers were in the highest of social standing and would often commission him to sculpt models of themselves or their family members.

He would take in such requests and create sculptures that bore a lifelike resemblance to the models they were based on. It would take a skilled eye to notice the difference between real and plaster.

One fine day, he received an impossible request.

A statue of the town's beloved leader, who like him was a perfectionist. He knew it was bound to come his way after his peers had their own renditions rejected or destroyed by the leader who found their attempts unsatisfactory.

Funds were running low and it was about time he took in a new project, taking this request would keep him monetarily safe for months to come.

He accepted.

A day out at his local supply store and he was back with all the necessary equipment. He started working, completely devoted to his craft.

Hours turned to days, which turned to weeks, which crept to a month.

His studio looked barely recognizable. Where once stood his prized work, now displayed the rejected creations of his assignment.    

His first attempt took a week, but it was not up to the quality that the leader expected.

Dejected he returned to work again, certain that the next one would be more magnificent than the previous. The second attempt as well as the third and plenty more that followed didn't fare too well and met the same fate as the first.

Days turned to weeks, which turned to months, which crept to a year.

He was a shadow of his former self, at a complete loss, his idea of perfection seemed feeble over to what the leader demanded.

He molded, sculpted, shaping clay, adding a bit of plaster, removing the unwanted, excessive bits. Each attempt outshining the previous. Still, it wasn't enough. 

He broke down, aghast; was the commission worth the trauma he felt each day? He wondered.

He stared at his hands, they were coated in a mixture of clay and plaster. He went to wash them off and was greeted by a strange sight in the mirror. 

Where once stood a man with long white hair and olive skin, now stood a stranger coated in clay and plaster. He scrubbed and washed the material off himself, but it clung to his skin, unwilling to part its way from the one who gave it purpose.

He froze, an unfamiliar sensation came over his body. He heard the door of his studio open and turned to meet the visitor, except his feet had forgotten how to walk.

He tried moving his feet with all his might, every muscle in his body fighting against this sensation. He barely took a step ahead when he came face-to-face with his tormentor.

The leader, who only wanted to enquire about the progress of the work, took one look at the sculpture in front of him and greeted it with a smile that was reserved to signal his mark of approval.

Unable to meet the maker of this marvel, he decided it would be best to keep this 'work of perfection' at his residence until the artist returned to him with his request.

This new addition quickly became a topic of conversation amongst those who had the pleasure to visit the residence. Each claiming a different rumor about the statue, how at times the eyes might move, or if you glanced from a certain angle, it would shed a tear.

One thing was for certain, it wasn't the first or last of its kind located in the residence.