By: John Silva – January
In a twist of time, it happened. The fog had crept over the land, and as it moved past, around, and through the men they stopped moving. Some were at work, others were walking and standing, some were playing basketball, and some were tending to their gardens. It was all quite strange… Eerie.
They looked like statues carved with incredible detail. The men had all been turned to stone. The stone was hard and smooth, and the men looked lifelike, but something wasn’t right. It was a strange time.
The statues were everywhere. The women tried not to stare at them, but many of these men they had known, many were friends and neighbors. The women tried to carry on… business as usual.
But, their movements were sluggish and unsteady. They seemed to be moving in slow motion and somewhat animated… as if they were living in a syncopated dream… unable to tell what was real and what wasn’t. The statues however remained stationary… unmoving… lifeless. After a time, a few of the wives and their friends began to retrieve some of the statues. Sometimes they brought them home… Sometimes they were put in the garage or kept in a shed. Others were left standing where they were when the fog came… abandoned.
Katrina caressed the statue that she had brought back to their home. She missed her husband, John. Her heart was broken with sadness. Tears ran down her cheeks as she embraced the cold, hard statue. Sometimes, when she was having a particularly difficult time, her statue seemed different. It seemed to have a faint, barely noticeable glow. Everyday as she was leaving for work, she talked to the statue. And then, she would faithfully kiss the statue and tenderly touch its cheek.
Eventually, a citizens group was formed to collect up the unclaimed statues. It was making some of the women feel queasy. They were all put in a huge warehouse. Some had been vandalized… fingers and noses had been broken off… some were covered with graffiti… and then there was the pigeon poop problem.
Katrina was staring at John’s statue. Something had changed. Its color was no longer pure white. It seemed softer.
When she visited her friends, she noticed that some of their statues had areas worn smooth form constant touching. One father was at home when the fog came. He was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. His lap was worn smooth from where his small son would sit on his lap. He would hug his dad who he missed very much. Sometimes, he would read his dad a story as his father had done so many times for him.
Katrina was quite certain that the position of the hand had changed. Or, had she just imagined it? As the weeks turned into months, she thought she detected tiny movements. The mouth seemed to have the slightest hint of a smile. She was certain that the position of the statue’s lips had changed. Soon, it was common to hear others saying the same thing. Her friend, Caroline, even claimed that her statue winked at her as she reached out to hug him.
First one and then another. It was amazing! Katrina had actually seen one. There he was walking down the street. She had seen so many statues for so long that it seemed strange to see a man walking. It wasn’t long before Katrina’s husband, John, revived. As did many of the other husbands, dads, boyfriends and neighbors. The statues that were being touched, caressed, kissed and talked to and yes even read stories to were all coming back to life. However, even when it was common knowledge as to how to revive the statues, many of the statues remained statues. There wasn’t anyone that cared.
Some statues partially revived. There could be a faint glow while others could move one finger, but that was all. Many of the statues that had been stored and collected were still hard and cold. It seemed that some women and children actually preferred statues to the men themselves. Eventually, they would have to decide what to do with the huge warehouse still full of statues.