Friday Fictioneers – Stone
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As soon as she unlocked the workshop door, she felt it. Something was out of place, the air was disturbed. She didn’t see it at first, but as she rounded the bench, there was the second face, her mallet and chisels laid casually, teasingly, alongside.
She was reminded of the watercolour she painted two months ago, and the alternative landscape which appeared overnight. And the squirrel wood carving, its tail morphed into a python. All of these hybrids, these conjoined improvements, had been done inside a locked workshop, outside her knowledge.
She realised now who the second artist must be.