The Sculptor of Time🔊

Once upon a time, in a remote village beside a dense forest, lived an old man named Herbert. People knew him as 'The Sculptor of Time'. He could not only create incredibly ornate sculptures but also had a peculiar understanding of Time.

Herbert's hut was surrounded with countless masterpieces, splashes of stone and wood, breathing life in their stillness. He had a profound aura, seemingly unaffected by the passage of time. His mysterious relationship with time intrigued everyone.

Herbert had an ancient pendulum clock, which according to rumours, was a gift from the god of Time for Herbert's extraordinary work in sculpture. Sometimes, village residents would watch in baffuncle as Herbert whispered to that clock, carving statues that felt so real, one would think time had stopped just for those sculptures.

Every sculpture told a different story; the joyous maiden dancing, the weeping soldier on his knees, an old lady lost in her tale - sculptures so rife with emotion anyone gazing at them felt what they portrayed.

One day, a rich merchant visited the village. Mesmerized by Herbert's work, he insisted Herbert carve a statue of his beloved daughter, promising rewards beyond imagine. Herbert, unswayed by the merchant's wealth, agreed only after hearing the heartwarming stories about his daughter.

They decided on creating the statue in the heart of the woods, where leylines of magic and mystery converge—the heart of time itself. Herbert would create the masterpiece, and the merchant would witness his daughter coming to life through stone.

Days turned into weeks. The rich merchant grew impatient and demanded to see the progress. Breaking the promise, he intruded on Herbert in the midst of his work, a secret whispering to the clock. As a consequence, his beloved daughter, the subject of Herbert's work, fell gravely ill.

The village healer said it's a curse that could only be lifted by revisiting the scene of its inception. The remorseful merchant, dread pooling in his heart, hurried to Herbert only to see an unfinished statue, an exact image of his ill daughter. Herbert, part drained and part disappointed, looked at the merchant and said 'Time's fabric has been torn, and she's caught in between. To her, time has stopped.'

In his desperation, the merchant pleaded for Herbert to amend the damage. To atone for his act, the merchant spent days helping Herbert gather the mystical elements from the heart of the forest.

When all was ready, Herbert began his work once again, speaking to the pendulum clock while diligently sculpting. Thunder rumbled overhead, wind whispering through the trees as Herbert finished the final touch. A lightning bolt struck the sculpture. The forest glowed, and then everything went silent.

The merchant rushed back to the village, only to hear the sound of his daughter's laughter echoing around their house. She was well again and playing.

Herbert, standing in front of a perfectly carved replica of the merchant's daughter, uttered to himself, 'A Sculptor doesn't only shape materials but also binds time within. That’s the true power of an artist.'

So, Herbert became a legend, an artist not just shaping wood and stone but merely time itself. He reminded everybody that sometimes, humility and understanding life around you are paramount over wealth and instant gratification.