Perfection

Perfection was almost achieved. Hammer in one hand, a short spear in the other. Sweat poured down his forehead tumbling to his cheeks, rolling on to his neck. His arms fell to his side, numb from the vibrations, exhausted from each strike. He wore comfortable pants and a woolen brown shirt, covered by his breastplate. No helm was worn. His face, a shiny white, glowed, his light blue eyes searching, his auburn hair matted with sweat, his jaws strong and fixed. Grime covered his neck, dust in his hair, he then took a deep breath.

Perfection was almost achieved. A grin appeared on his face. Tired from doing battle – rest was needed. How long had he attacked for, he wondered. He had lost any sense of time, and it was growing dark. He breathed deeply once more. He looked to his hands – shallow cuts covered them – blood trickled easily down his fingers. Flashbacks of what had just happened emerged in his mind. A thrust here, a strike there, metal on metal, creating a hair-standing noise. The noise still echoed in his head. He had dodged, moved closer, and attacked. Left, right, slashing across, throwing his weight behind each crushing blow. He now looked up at his adversary. Hardened from so many years, this battle was not easy.

An angel stood before him. Towering at around 6 feet and she standing in a battle stance, her body lithe, her powerful arms holding two double-edged swords, her wings spread out, her head held up high, her eyes fixed upon him. He stared back….. The armour she wore was beautifully crafted. The greaves looked sturdy, locked with many metal rings, called chainmail. Her bracers covered with runes, giving her unnatural strength. Her breastplate small and engraved with prayers, covered her bosom, and curved into a V-shape, pointing to her belly. She seemed to wear a linen cloth, covering her chalice and thighs. Only her limbs, stomach, and face were naked. Her face was her most beautiful feature. Her hair flowed from the east wind, eclipsing her face. Her forehead was relaxed, her cheeks were strong, and her luscious lips formed an easy smile. But her eyes were the most powerful feature. It seemed as if they were as deep as the sea, and that looking directly in those eyes, would leave anyone transfixed. They were stone-cold hard.

Perfection was almost achieved. He stood up. Mallet in one hand, chisel in the other. Sweat covered his forehead. He could feel the blood flow through his arms, giving the strength he needed. He shook off dust from his pants, shirt and his hair. He adjusted his apron. His eyes gazed upon the unfinished spot. He took a deep breath, and resumed. A thrust here, a strike there, metal on metal, creating that hair-standing noise once again.

Night arrived and the full moon could be seen in the clear sky. He had finished. He took a step back and admired the beauty before him. Where was once a large rock stood, now a beautifully sculpted angel was in its place. He felt as if he was in the presence of someone great, and that he should bow before her. Perfection achieved. Perfection completed.

He left his mallet and chisel on the table, and decided to bring his companions to show his hard labor. He turned to leave. As he did, the chisel slowly started to roll off the table. It hit the floor, bounced once, twice, three times, and headed straight for sculpture……… ‘CRACK’