Chapter Text
[Click]
[Click]
[Grian]
Right. Statement of…Cleo…last name withheld for privacy reasons…
[Cleo]
Easier to keep it off record that way, luv.
[Grian]
…right…(Laughs nervously) regarding…a strange book she found on her doorstep. Statement recorded direct from subject, October 14th, 2024. Statement begins.
[Cleo]
I take it that means I can start, then? Alright.
I suppose I should begin at the beginning, about three or four months ago. I was a school teacher back then. Now I’m more of a…freelance artist, per se. But anyways, that was when, like you said, I opened my door one morning to find a package on my front porch. It was about yay-big, box-shaped, wrapped in that brown paper that books tend to come in, held together with a few pieces of clear tape. I picked it up, and studied it, turning it over to look for the address. I figured it was just delivered to the wrong place. I knew I hadn’t ordered anything, so it must have been meant for someone else.
Strangely enough—or at least, at the time I thought it was strange—there was no return address, or postage stamp, or anything. Nothing except a small note that was pinned to the back—‘From the library of Joe Hills’, it read. By that point, my interest had been piqued. I took the package inside, and ripped the paper open…and it was a book. It was called The Art of Statuecraft, or something like that. I opened it, and a bookplate that matched the note on the outside caught my eye. You know, it’s funny. I didn’t even think to look for this ‘Joe Hills’ at the time, even though this book had shown up at my house with no return address, wrapped in brown paper. For all I had known, there could have been something hidden in those pages—a tracker, or a secret camera—but I guess I figured it was just a library book. What harm could a library book do?
And so, I began to read.
It was pretty basic stuff, at first. I’ve always had an interest in art, and the first chapter or so was pretty easy to understand. Materials, and form, and whatnot. Sure, there was the occasional odd note or suggestion, but nothing too outlandish. That is…until I got to the section about posing. Frameworks, body language, angles, etcetera, etcetera.
After studying the pages for a bit, I decided to give it a go, with a few cotton swabs and lollipop sticks I had lying around leftover from a craft project the kids had done. It was…easier than I expected. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the book wasn’t super overly complicated, but I had expected it to be…I don’t know…more difficult, given that it was my first try? When I met Joe, he told me I had a “sculptor’s hand”. Whatever that means.
[Grian]
Wait! You mean you actually—
[Cleo]
Yup.
[Grian]
Where is—
[Cleo]
Now, now, darling. Did you really think I’d tell you? Friends don’t spill each other's secrets.
[Grian]
But—
[Cleo]
Nope.
(Grian sighs)
[Cleo]
Aww. Don’t look so blue. I’m sure when the time is right, you’ll meet. Joe always finds you when he wants to.
Trust me.
Anyways, where was I? Ah, right.
The swabs and sticks were easy to assemble. I didn’t even need glue or anything. It all just…fit. It was like they were meant to be arranged like that. It was satisfying, being able to make little figures—being able to create and pose them how I liked. I would barely notice the clock ticking away on the wall, into the late hours of the night. All I could think about was the statues. All that mattered was the statues.
After the sticks and swabs, I moved on to experimenting with bigger things. Lawn chairs I had disassembled, broomsticks, pvc pipes, and other random junk. Again, I mastered the section I was reading…but I just didn’t have the courage to start digging up graves—not yet, anyway.
And so, for the next few weeks, I tried to focus on making the junk statues, and keep my mind off the next section of the book. I guess part of me was a little grossed out, and horrified with myself, and I had figured that if I pretended it didn’t exist, I’d stop thinking about the plan I already was forming in my head about breaking into the graveyard. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did to distract myself, I couldn’t stop thinking about the book, and the statues, and how well the bones would fit together, and what lovely creations they could become. And so, one late weekend night…I finally did it.
It was hard to get myself to make that first turn of the earth with my shovel, but once I got going, it became easier. I carried the bones home in a duffel bag, and once I was safely behind the closed doors of my house, I got to work. It’s amazing, you know? How easily bones just slide into place? You can just tell they’re meant for a work of art like that—that they're meant to be displayed.
By that point, I had quit my job as a teacher, and fully devoted my time to statue-making. It was my passion—my calling. People wanted to see my artwork, no matter where it might have come from. I even started an online shop that sold creations with animal bones I found in the woods, and cleaned from roadkill. Animal bones were always fun, as they’re a lot more interesting and unique than human ones. And, just for clarification, I only use legal animal bones in my artwork. Nothing endangered or illegal to hunt.
But, eventually, like before, my work started to become more of the same. It felt too easy again, and I was itching for something more. After all, your bones only make up a small percentage of your body, and once they’ve dried out, they become even less than that. Everything else—the muscle, the sinew, the skin—it all goes to waste. It’s really quite a shame, when you stop and think about it. So, I was delighted to find that the next section of the book held a solution:
Live subjects.
The first one was a delivery guy, I believe, although what he had come to deliver me, I don’t remember. He was standing on my porch with a clipboard, and I complimented him on his appearance. He had a good face for art, I told him, and I asked if he would come inside and model for me for a little while. He gave me a bit of an odd look, but agreed. He was on his break for the next few hours or so anyway, so I happily led him inside. Once we were away from prying eyes, I told him to hold still, and he did. I studied him for a few minutes, debating on what direction I wanted to take the piece, before I got to work.
I remember giving him an extra set of arms, and fangs, like a spider.
Several works and several weeks later, there was only one section left in the book: ‘Preservation’. At first, I figured it was just about things like concealing paint properly so it wouldn’t chip, or making sure stitches were tied off properly so they wouldn’t come out. Instead, I found that it was about keeping a subject alive for an indefinite amount of time.
It’s funny. No matter what you do to a living thing, as long as you preserve it right, it just won’t die. You could cut it open, add things, remove things, change the entire structure of the DNA itself…
…and it just. Won’t. Die.
I have lots of them now. The statues. Some people I find, and others ask for me to make them works of art. It doesn’t really matter how we meet though. I make them all works of art…
You know, you’d make a lovely piece yourself, luv.
[Grian]
Me?
[Cleo]
Yup! I feel like it’d have something to do with…feathers…and eyes. Lots of eyes. Or maybe no eyes… Definitely something in the realm of eyes.
[Grian]
…Why?
[Cleo]
I don’t know. It’s just the vibe I get from you. You know what...
(Rummaging noises)
[Cleo]
Here. Take my card. If you ever want to see my art gallery, or have something done, just pay me a visit.
Now, any questions? Or am I okay to leave?
[Grian]
I noticed your arm…with the stitches…and I was wondering…about becoming “art”…
Does it…
(Softly) …does it hurt?
[Cleo]
…
Only if you let it.
[Click]
[Click]
[Grian]
Is she gone?
[Pearl]
Yeah.
[Grian]
Oh thank Notch! She stared at me like a hawk the entire time I was cleaning up, like she was already planning what she wanted to dissect first.
[Pearl]
(Laughs)
Maybe you should take her up on her offer sometime. Feathers would match your personality, you big chicken! We could call you Poultry Man!
[Grian]
Hey! Not funny!
(Pearl laughs)
[Pearl]
…
Wait a minute.
You actually believe that she’s turning people into statues?
[Grian]
What? No! She’d probably just hot glue those cheap craft store feathers to my skin and call it good, the psychopath! I’m more concerned about the fact that she’s friends with a man who spreads paranoia wherever he goes.
…
(Softly) I do wonder though…
[Pearl]
Hmm?
[Grian]
Nothing. Just thinking, is all.
[Pearl]
…okaaayyy? Well, I did some follow up, and she was telling the truth about the online shop listing. She also seems to sell her animal pieces at craft fairs, too. As for the…larger subjects, nothing can be traced back to her. Yes, there have been reported grave robbings in her area, but nothing higher than the national average. Same for the kidnapping numbers.
[Grian]
Really? Nothing? Is there at least some information on Joe Hills?
[Pearl]
Nope. He’s even more elusive than her.
[Grian]
(Groans)
[Pearl]
Although…
[Grian]
What?
[Pearl]
There was someone who walked out with Cleo. They were dressed in a gray hoodie and a black pair of sweatpants. I couldn’t make out their face though. They were wearing a mask over their nose and mouth, and the hood obscured everything else. There was something else off about them too. The air around them sort of…shimmered. Like a mirage.
[Grian]
What? Why didn’t you stop them? What if it was Joe?
[Pearl]
Well, I would have, but by the time I thought to ask they were already out the door. When I went outside to find them they were just…gone, like they'd just vanished into thin air or something. Sorry.
[Grian]
(Sighs) It’s alright. It probably wasn’t him anyway. I feel like that would be too easy. Keep an eye out for me though. Even if this hoodied person isn’t Joe, I’d still like to know who they are, and what exactly they're doing hanging around Cleo. Who knows?
Maybe they’ll have the answers to my questions.
[Click]