ReddieSculpts Subscription Story

December 13

ReddieSculpts looked around his studio at the monsters sitting on their shelves, their eyes watching him as he moved from his computer to his sculpting station. One more sculpt. That’s all he needed and then the set would be complete. The gallery was waiting, the show was primed to happen, and all he needed was one. More. Sculpt.

But the ideas weren’t coming. Hadn’t come for the past week.

“What are we thinking?” he asked the bust of the mad dentist sitting beside him. The man smiled back at him, his inscrutable expression offering kindness while his eyes promised world of pain. “A new bust? Maybe a head on a plaque? Been a while since we had a head on a plaque.”

ReddieSculpts prepped his clay and sat with his hands hovering over it, waiting for the inspiration to come. The minutes ticked by and nothing.

With a curse, he shoved away from his desk and paced the length of the studio, tearing his hands through his hair. He didn’t have time to procrastinate like this. He needed to get the piece done or he could consider the contract with the gallery null and void.

“What about a model of Death?” a voice asked him.

He stopped and looked around, not sure who had spoken. No one else was supposed to be here today. “I already have a model of Death.”

“No, you have a model of the grim reaper,” the voice said. “I’m talking about Death itself.”

ReddieSculpts blinked and looked around again. “Who are you? Where are you?”

“Over here.”

He peered on the shelf, around the sculpted teddybear he’d crafted out of spite and the self-portrait with the tentacles and fingers creeping up out of the eyes. His gaze landed on a tiny pixie with a pen sticking out of its back.