That went…less than well. I handed it over willingly- if there were to be no consequences, he will truly value the thing. But as he took it a weight lifted from me. I saw him to his car and I knew it no longer wanted me, but him. Back to work.

He should have been home by now, it’s been three hours. His wife left a message here too, that he isn’t answering his phone. I have a sinking feeling, I know what’s happened. He’s been assaulted by it. I regret giving it to him now- he was so happy to have it, so excited.

and there’s the matter of the “harpy”, too.

I don’t know who it belongs to yet.

I’m finished with her.

I think I know who should have her. Who she will enjoy.

A collector I know.
I can’t find my cat. The litterbox is full of what look like owl pellets.

I called the collector. She arrived fresh as a daisy, and glad to have something for her macabre collection. She’s eyed my work at every opening so far, and was flattered that I gave this to her. She almost couldn’t believe her luck. That was this afternoon. I still haven’t heard from her, or the other artist who I gave the spider to. It’s now evening. Perhaps it’s a coincidence that they’ve both gone missing. I know it isn’t, though. I can’t keep denying this.

I keep thinking about the next creature- its bones are already laid out in order here on a piece of canvas. It won’t fit on the table so I lay it out on the floor. I don’t feel right about it.

I mean, these other two, I can rationalize giving them away. I can pretend to myself that they won’t attack their owners- they’re after ME, right? nobody else?

But I know this isn’t true. And this bigger one has a more malevolent feeling, a more intentional feeling. The first one- well, I was just building from a model I saw in dreams, right? I couldn’t know that it was animate. That it WANTED to be built.

But building this last one, I know. I know before I even start, that I am building art to destroy someone with.

and I wish I could not know that. Or turn off my conscience somehow, and not care. I want to resist. I don’t want to use my hands for this kind of work. What am I going to do? Can I kill it? Does that mean I have to kill all three?

Because despite everything, I feel the same fondness for these two that i do for any piece of art I have made that I am satisfied with.

Am I really evil enough to value my own art over the life of a person?
I think I’m going to fight it. I have a revolver. I don’t think that will work, though.

first installment of this story was here

second installment of this story was here 

I could not keep this thing, this child of mine, in my studio. In my home.
I sat on my porch for a very long time. I soon forgot the darkness and the lateness- and I thought of someone-

I would give the creature to him. It would fit his collection perfectly. I can’t, even now, imagine being PAID for this thing. Yet, I felt, the act of giving it to someone would transfer its- affections- interest- to them instead of me.
Or perhaps it would do nothing once it was away from me, from this place.
when I ventured back inside, it was still. inanimate. The feeling I had had of it being live, in motion arrested- that feeling was gone.

I lay down, breathed a deep sigh, and slept.
This time, I dreamt I was outdoors. where I had just sat on the porch, in the dim light from the door’s window. Over my porch hangs, very high above, the long branches of a douglas fir. My attention was drawn there by cones falling to the ground in front of me. I looked up and saw, lit only by starlight, a dark shape. It screeched; I screamed. It dove at me and in absolutely irrational dream logic I saw it, even in the tarry blackness. I saw its feet, its face.
I’d call it a harpy but it wasn’t; any more than the first creature was a “spidermonkey”.

As I ran from it a long form on the ground pursued me. I only got a glimpse of it; I feel that it is next in line.
I began assembling immediately upon waking; this happened last night and I am here typing as the first set of articulations, the first layer of glue, begins to dry in front of me, and I plan to finish this and gift it before I sleep again. I’ve also, for some reason, began to lay out another set of bones- long, curving spine and short claws.
I’ve posted the “harpy” first, I’ll say the end and post the pile that is even now growing in scale and scope.
I have to go brew more coffee.
the sun is up; I can’t work on it any longer and I MUST sleep now so that I can wake up tonight to finish. I can’t prop it upright yet but I can post where I’m at so far. Still need to assemble the ribs, sternum, and jaws. It’s getting closer, though. It’s starting to look- familiar.

Not entirely pleasant now that the head is attached, and I wish I’d not given it its hands until the end. what’s done is done, though.

I woke up with my arms behind my back, like they’d been handcuffed, both arms tingling and sore from bloodlack. I feel queasy. I woke up lying on my back, my head tilted up, all the way up. I can barely look forward normally right now to type this; the strain on my neck is incredible, I’ve at least got a bad muscle spasm and at worst a strain or sprain.

I’m going to take a few ibuprofen and then come back and tell the dream. I’ve got coffee brewing and I foresee a long night ahead of construction.

I finished attaching some more pieces. I spent a few hours tinkering with angles and placements and wires, then fell onto the couch for a nap.
I felt fairly safe; after all, I’d told the story, decided to gift these creatures rather than keep or sell them, and this one wasn’t quite as animate, yet, as the last.

I cannot remember the whole dream, only I know it was long. One of those neverending dreams with repetitive elements that frustrate.
I do remember the end, though. I was walking, on a path. From above I was suddenly grabbed and my arms thrust behind me. Then I was lifted, by my arms, from the ground. It was excruciating and as I was lifted something sharp began to grab and tear at my hair. I was unable to struggle against my own weight, and screamed.

i woke up as I described, lying on my back with my arms beneath me. My arms were asleep and tingling and my hair was in clumps on the pillow.

The “harpy” had settled a bit on the perch when I finally was able to bring myself to look at it.

I’ll be working straight through, now, I think.

There’s something outside.

I have huge front windows, my work table faces one. I know for someone who spends a lot of time on /x/ it may seem odd but I prefer being able to see out of the windows, rather than having curtains up.

And there is something out there, slinking around in the bushes. It’s long.

The neighbor left me a note today while I was napping. “Two of my hens are gone, keep an eye on your cat, maybe a owl out here”

Whatever is moving around outside is in the bushes by the drive, which leads to her house.

I suppose it could be a cougar. I keep glancing out the window while I work.

I wish I could work faster. I wish I could finish both of these pieces at once, tonight, now.

I’ve made plans to meet my friend to give him his gift. I haven’t described it to him at all, just told him it was something I made just for him, for his collection. He’s coming by in an hour or so.

:::

first installment of this story is here

third installment, ending of this story is here