My mother told me about it when i was around 6 years old.She told me that i wasn't an only child,i was one of two little girls.You see,she told me that when i was first born along with my twin sisters,she died the evening she was born.She never told me why or how she died or when they had the funeral for her.She told me that my father going in a deep sense of mourning and so to never forget my little sister,my father made a sculpture of her.
She was painted to every last detail.Her cute little blue eyes to the little dimples in her cheeks.My father would copy me as a reference since we were twins,and as i grew up i thought the sculpture was of me,but now that my mother cleared this all up I felt more close to the sculpture than before.It wasn't long until i noticed that every year on my birthday my father would replace the sculpture and now the sculpture would look the same age as me,as if the sculpture would follow me as i grew up.My father continued to do this until my teenage years,capturing her old and more mature features and the change in the face.
On my 18th birthday i realised that i could not sleep.I was wondering how my father made the sculpture so detailed of me at late into the night.Perhaps he took a photo of me and paints it in every detail?! I was curious so i decided to creep my way downstairs to see if i could catch my father making the sculpture and as i peeked my head around the door of the kitched I felt all the colour of my face drain.
There,on the table my father was injecting the sculpture with a liquid and whispered ' You will always be my little sculpture...' as i watched the sculpture's hands twitch.
