The Statue
The statue stood alone in a clearing, its granite face was cracked and its stone sword was now covered in grime. If one looked at it, one would gain the impression that it had been there a very long time. Yet, no one looked for him; no one came. The statue itself couldn’t remember how long it had been or even how it came to be. Time and memory had certain meaninglessness when you could not move or speak.
Presently, however, something began to happen. The bushes rustled, on the statue’s left, out of sight. The statue supposed that it would be another deer. And yet, to the statue’s surprise, it heard voices. It had been so long since the statue had heard a human voice that it took him a number of seconds, maybe a minute, before he could understand what was being said.
“Are you ok?”
The statue heard what sounded like a mumbled affirmative, accompanied by more rustling in the bushes.
“Alright, let’s keep going; the shrine should be over this way. We’re almost there.”
The statue felt a rising excitement, the familiarity of a human voice washing over him. Such a sound was far more pleasant than anything he had heard for a long time. He could not remember when he heard it last. He strained himself, trying to move. Even though he knew that it would be pointless.
Eventually, after what almost seemed like decades, the people appeared. There were two of them, a boy and a girl. Their faces were bright and young, despite them being almost as tall as the statue himself. The boy held a sword, so similar to the statue’s own, while the girl held a staff. They walked by him, then stopped. Both the boy and the girl stood there for a quiet minute.
And then, as if prodded, they began to move. The boy, eyes watering, started first, but the girl hung back. She put her arm on the statue’s shoulder and then whispered.
“It’s going to be alright; don’t worry.” said the girl, seemingly to herself. “We’ll complete this task too.”
Then she too passed. The statue could hear the sound of metal scraping against metal and an electronic whirr that he assumed was a door opening. He could barely sense the blue light that he was sure emanated from behind him. He had almost expected it.
The statue waited for them to return. And yet they didn’t. The statue waited for so long, unmoving that he could feel moss growing on his feet. Time passed slowly after that, and the statue began to lose count of the centuries. Animals wandered by, unperturbed. And the rain began to wear away at his stone, marring his features, and continuing unabated. So time continued to pass. He began to forget about the two people, the only two that he could remember. Both time and memory escaped him.
Then, as day turned to night, he heard a familiar sound: that of metal scraping against metal. And, just as he knew, came a shine of blue light from behind him. Beaten, battered, yet triumphant, out came the two that had been there previously. He tried to recall The statue was much taken aback. He had long since given up hope they would return, almost forgetting them.
The statue thought that he could see the boy cradling one of his arms in the other. The statute felt a pang of melancholy at the sight, though he didn’t know why. If the statue could rub his eyes, he would have; the boy’s arm looked almost grey and rested stiffly. The boy gave a half-smile directed towards the statue. “We did it!” Jubilation rang in the boy’s voice, tired though it was. “I just wanted you to know that what you did wasn’t in vain. We won’t forget you. After all, well, it looks like we got something in common now.”
Here he hefted his right arm, grey and stiff. Now that the statue could see it better, he could tell that the boy’s arm had turned to granite. Tears beaded up in the boy’s eyes. The boy and the girl soon left, the girl giving the statue one last backward glance. He was sure that he would remember the boy and the girl.
And then time passed. Grass grew, and the clouds passed by. A century had passed with no one coming. Far from then, as night turned to day, the statue had almost forgotten.
