Her sister has told her that a baby boy is buried inside the statue. Half alive apparently. Jess will have to break the stone to rescue him. But Jess doesn’t want to. She listens to him breathing. Sometimes she’ll put a hand out, searching for warmth. Wipes stone tears away.
ps don't have much internet access here so apologies if my posting is sporadic!
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Fervente could chisel birdsong, they said, and heartbeats, and sighs. Could give breath and life to stone. And the graveyard angels Fervente cut from marble, their wings seemed to move, the feathers ruffling, as if itching to fly, from the place of the dead into the place of the living.
They move. When I am not looking. When my back is turned. Like that kid’s game, and what’s the time Mr Wolf? And when I look again, they are nearer, creeping up on me. One stone-foot nearer, and statues behaving like children, holding their poses, until I close my eyes.
I had practiced kissing since the first day I realized that kissing Ann-Marie would be nothing like kissing Mother. The stone was cool and almost untouchable, the way Ann-Marie had been with me. Only, the statue was mine and I could have her whenever I wanted; this was the difference.
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