Mom's Statue (Short Story - Part 1)

Part 1

"Why do you still cannot forget mom?" I asked to my father one day.

His eyes were sharp. There was anger behind that look. I decided to push back a step. I did not dare look at his eyes were like the eyes of a hawk.

My father was a famous sculptor. Whenever there is a statue of the order, the customer is always satisfied and amazed at the results of the work. The statue is father made as if alive. If you see the dim light then you would not believe that it was really a sculpture. Indeed, I never know how father mix the ingredients to make a sculpture. Perhaps I never want to know. I really do not like smudged with ingredients blend sculpture. Moreover, membership of a statue slightest father not infected me. I'm just a girl who is happy with life-style hedonism.

Every day father holed up in his studio. Sculptures to shake off his disappointment. In the studio father a lot of statues. Various forms and shapes. There is a statue of an ancient Roman warrior, dragon figurines, statues of Buddha, even there is also a statue of a mermaid.

But there is interest in the studio. When one day father introduced me to the mother; at the time I thought that father will marry again. Is not the mother had died since I was born into this world? But what happens, father show me a woman statue. Very beautiful. Nude statues stand in an upright position. His entire body was glowing white, and only his genitals are covered. A figure sculpture beautiful young woman as if living and having a life.

"It's your mother," said father. I do not believe. Statues of women did not show similarities with me.

Well, as long as the statue of the mother is in the studio father, father's face always happy. In stark contrast with the past, face father who always grieving.

From the statue of mother, I finally heard the stories of my mother from father's mouth. It made me more to know who she really is. I am happy that the past history of the mother uncovered. In the past, I never wanted to know about it and did not want to take care. For what the mother asked. My life without a mother there and still as ever. This followed father very cold attitude towards me. Lucky I had friends who were able to keep me happy. Forgetting all the misery and grief.

But since I know the mother, I mostly gloomy. Contemplating the meaning of a mother. It turned out so severe suffering experienced by the mother. Do you want to hear the story of my mother? Do you want to know why father made a living sculpture that resembles my mother?