The Wooden Idol

[Aspen Coolwater]

Aspen Winter 46 Syka Commons The wood had been a soft wood, that Aspen had found lying discarded near one of the construction projects. It was a light tawny in colour, with darker markings running through it. “How old had this tree been?” He wondered. He held the carving axe firmly in his right hand, as he slowly began to shave slivers of the wood off, making sure to guide the blade away from his thumb. The axe slid neatly along the grain of the wood, each small shaving falling down onto the ground below. Each cut was a long, smooth one, like the fibres of silk, and as he ran his hand down the wooden surface, he couldn’t feel any lumps or splinters. So far so good. It was a risk carving a totem of Morwen, Aspen knew. But he was bad enough at whittling that he doubted his intention would be true to anyone but him. And besides, it gave him something to do during the midday heat, where he didn’t want to venture wandering through the jungle. Easier to stay under shelter, and rest. And carve. As he continued to shave off bits of wood, Aspen started to round one end, hoping this to be the top of the head. He continued to do this, waiting until the wood was roughly the size of his hand. Turning the wood around, Aspen started to pare horizontally to the grain, cutting a small triange out of the bottom of the wood. Repeating this on the other side, he then started to round the rectangal that was sticking out from the wood. This would be the feet, with the rest being the skirt. Unwilling to risk finer detail just yet, Aspen moved up, shaving the wood inwards to account for the waist of the dress. Every time he pared off some wood on one side, it made the other look unbalanced, and Aspen would have to return to the other side and remove some there. The waist was slowly shrinking, getting thinner and thinner, until it was barely an inch thick. Sighing, Aspen started to widen the waist out again as the body rose up into the torso. “Damm.” He muttered himself, as the knife bounced along the edge of the wood, unable to get a grip. Trying once again, he pushed harder on the knife. This time it did grip the wood, but gouged out a small chunk of the edge. Turning the wood around, Aspen began to pare with the grain again. He’d try to do another pare cut later, when he’d fixed the mess he had just made.