Almost halfway through this year’s month of stories. Today’s is inspired by the Westray Wife, a Neolithic carving.
Between Stone and Sky
The stone figure was tiny, small enough to sit in the palm of Lisa’s hand. In the scratched features she saw echoes of her own. The way the brow creased and furrowed the glittering stone. The barely incised hands clasping each other.
She placed it in the finds tray and carried on trowelling the trench, waiting for the finds officer to collect the small statue and take it back to the finds hut for processing.
Waking in the middle of the night, Lisa felt the weight of the statue on her chest before she saw it, the figure laid upon its back. Her fingers ran over the carved stone, finding each subtle scratch that helped shape the personality into the object, each line that gave it meaning.
Holding it in both hands, she stepped out of her tent, not bothering to put on shoes, and walked across the wet grass to stand in the moon’s glare.
The statue might be thousands of years old, but it was her and the woman who carved it, and all the women in between. She held the figure up above her head, watching the moonlight slide into the lines that decorated the roughly carved face, finding new expressions hidden in the grain. Scowls and smiles, and ecstasy, and as she watched Lisa felt the same emotions fill her until there was no line between her and the goddess in the rock, and with her face turned to the sky she sang to the night.