Born Of Clay

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about a young artist by the name of Adrian, he creates a masterpeice, the very definition of beauty itself incased in the sculputure of a small girl. He places a necklace on his finishing product and unknown to him the necklace has some very interesting powers...
A story of romance, immortality, and a little humor.

Submitted: April 21, 2011

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Submitted: April 21, 2011

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Born of Clay
 
Prologue:
 
 
A young man with long brown hair and a loose pony tail stood in front of a large lump of clay. His moss green eyes showed aggravation and his eyebrows were furrowed in frustration. He was a young sculptor and he was very serious about his work. He’d been staring at the white blob for hours, undecided as to what to make. His usual forest animal would simply not due. This clay was special, or so he’d been told. The day had been like any other, he’d gotten up, had breakfast, and set out to the local art supplies store to get some new clay and paints. On his way to the store however, he’d run into a little old lady. There had been nothing out of the ordinary about her, minus the fact that she was on the ground, but it was hardly her fault. After helping her up she’d introduced herself as Ann, and had been so grateful as to invite him over to her home. Being the gentleman that he is, he’d accompanied her home and kept her company for an hour or so. As he’d been about to take his leave she stopped him and requested him to wait another moment. The little old lady scurried away into the back of the cluttered house and returned moments later dragging a large box full of what she said was a special kind of clay only acquired over seas. Atop the large both was a smaller one that she said contained something for his finishing product. Without hesitation he’d taken the boxes, bid the lady farewell and been on his way.
This had led him to the situation he was in now. After returning home he’d promptly opened the box and with much effort, placed the clay clump on his work desk. The young artist sighed as he recapped the events in his mind. Just as he was about to call it a day and try again tomorrow a surge of energy passed through him and his hands went to work at an unbelievably fast pace. His hands pulled and shaped the clay, building it higher and higher until it was about the height of a child, at this point he really went to work. Putting the clay on the floor he started carving and molding the clay. He worked tirelessly until the very early morning, and when he was through he couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him was the sculpture of a young girl. She looked about ten years old and was amazingly detailed. After taking a look at his lovely little sculpture the artist didn’t care how late it was, he felt the need to paint her right then and there. Gathering his paint he set to work, starting with her frilly dress. He worked diligently and quickly moved on to the rest of her body. When he was through, a time late into the afternoon, he was absolutely stunned. 
Standing a proud 4’9, not including the base of the sculpture, was an adorable white haired little girl. She stood with her arms out by her sides, slightly lifted from her body. Her legs close together with one in front of the other in a frozen walking stance. Her white locks fell loosely to her shoulders in stylish waved and her irises were an amazingly shade of pink. Her pale skin was flushed an identical shade of pale pink that matched her plump lips and had an attractive heart shaped face. On her slight frame she wore a pink dress. Black lace covered the skirt of the dress and gave peaks of the pink fabric underneath. The lace abruptly stopped at the tie around her that back came into a large black bow. The top of her dress was strapless, somehow held up by her small breasts, and had a smaller black bow in the center were her collar would be. The pink of the dress was a soft silky color that complimented her eyes nicely, and was a similar color to the ballet flats she worn on her feet, small black ribbons adorned the tips of the shoes and lace lined the edges of the ribbons. Sighing to himself he added the finishing touches. He reached into the smaller box the elderly woman had given him and pulled out a small pink chocker necklace covered in black lace with a beautiful stone that shone orange and pink in the light hanging from it. It matched significantly to the dress the sculpture wore and he shivered at the eeriness of it. Slowly clipping the necklace onto her slender neck he decided that he wouldn’t sell this beautiful work of art.
Having decided that he had admired his work enough he went back to his bedroom to sleep. Later that evening, having gotten his fill on sleep, the young man left the house to join his friends at a club downtown for a well disserved break. After leaving, the house grew ominously quite. Several minutes the stone around the sculptures neck began to pulsate and glow. It vibrated until it became so warm a small drop of it melted off. Quickly it hardened and vibrated on its own. It started to sink deep into the chest of the sculpture and began carrying out its job. The vibration of the larger gem had stopped but the small stone continued to pulsate. It shifted and began to transform into the life sustaining muscle that is the heart. Slowly the rest of the body began to change. Hard clay smoothly turned into delicate alabaster skin, and sculpted waves turned into locks of silk. The invisible stomach underneath the now real cloth became attractively fit with strong muscles. Finally the heartbeat slowed and the now living girl took a deep shuddering first breath.


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