[ WP ] Gods are around as long as they have statues and images of themselves to look out through . Write what happens when their last statue is smashed .

Funny enough, these letters were sent to me from a good friend over the past few months. I should give John a call and see how he's doing. 
 
 Kyle, 
 
 I'm very sure I've told you enough before of the artist I've made acquaintance with these last few weeks for you to recall whom I'm talking about, so skipping the reintroduction, and I only write to you because I've feel as if I'm becoming terribly smitten. 
 
 Kyle, I'm not sure how you felt when you found your own dear wife, or when she sang to you for the first time; but, I might wager I might be getting that same feeling. 
 
 Her most recent Objets de Art are nothing more than disturbing and grotesque. This new series of miniatures features a bastardized centaur woman with the body of a spider. Her arms are jointed and a little more arachnid than human but her her torso unmistakably that of well endowed woman while her head. 
 
 These statuettes are disturbing deeply. In what might be no more than a figurine for a tabletop game I feel something emanating and it frightens me deeply. This is not the artificial fright that I've gotten from movies or video games, but the deep seated fear when you jump out of planes. The gut feeling that you just might die or worse. 
 
 I held one in my hand and I felt myself going faint. 
 
 She is quite the sculptor, Kyle. I feel guilty that I love her because she is so talented, but I'll somehow find a way to sleep at night ( when I'm sure to have nightmares ). 
 
 She told me that she began sculpting these after doing her shift at the Nursing Home. One of the residents, Mr. Morton, seemed to babble on a little bit in one of his more lucid moments before the medication sent him back into stupor. 
 
 She says that since that moment this figure comes to her in dreams. I wish I had the same artistic quality to my own dreams. 
 
 Next time you visit, I'll have to show you these pieces. They'll drive you absolutely mad. 
 
 Send my best regards to the Misses, 
 J 
 
 Kyle, 
 
 I must admit that I did fall in love with her because of the gothic art but those statuettes that she last made have been perhaps too much for me too handle. 
 
 For the past few months when I would stay with her I'd have terrible dreams, and when I'd awake I'd find myself paralyzed with my eyes open. I'd awake to these terrible whisperings, almost a thousand voices but the same voice. I know it must sound crazy but I'd swear it's those fucking figures. 
 
 They've become more grotesque as she's made more and I swear whatever she makes them out of has this horrible rotting stench to them. I've begun to hide air-freshners at her place and insisting she come to my place more often. 
 
 She thinks we're getting pretty serious now because of it and frankly other than the fact her work scares the ever living shit out of me, we are almost ready for a next step. 
 
 I've insisted she do no work at my place, selfishly because those statues of that spider woman and her red eyes. The dreams are terrible and apocalyptic nightmares that she lords overs. I think I might make her keep her place as a studio and she can live with me but her work now makes me uneasy. 
 
 At least work is going well enough. I must admit at this point it's actually enjoyable going to the hospital. 
 
 I ca n't wait until next week when I see you. I swear once you see these things you'll wish you'll never have came. However, I'm more anxious to see what you and Gen think of her. I must admit having her over as often as she is does make me wonder and perhaps even long for her to be here as more than a guest. 
 
 Of course that's when she's not scaring me with those fucking spider bitches. 
 
 My best to you and yours, 
 J 
 
 
 Kyle, 
 
 I swear to Christ the Universe is plotting against me. Someone just commissioned a statue of `` Mother''. 
 
 I was with her at an open Art exhibit when this huge and strikingly bald man immediately took interest in these figurines. Apparently, they're not babblings of an old guy at a Nursing Home nor are they just plain old nightmare fuel. He said that they're a representation of an Old God from a very old Grimoire. 
 
 He went on and on and you could just see her light up like a million dollars. Then, and I could n't make this up if I tried, he paid fifty thousand for everything there and is paying a huge sum for a large, marble statue. 
 
 I know you and Gen were just as put off by those statues as I were. A lot of people are actually. Except this guy. Well, good thing he'll be taking them off of our hands. 
 
 The best part was is just like every other night after a good exhibit, she was quite the firecracker to say the least. Worst part was that the nightmares have begun following me to my own house. She finds it amusing, but at least she's stopped hiding them in my dresser. 
 
 It was good seeing you Kyle and send me another mix tape soon, it takes my mind away from Mother. 
 
 Miss you, 
 J 
 
 Kyle, 
 
 Mother is finally done. It tired her out finishing it and she is getting half moons under her eyes, I think we are starting to match, lord knows that the hospital has been taking it out of me recently. 
 
 It is a horrifying sight, and if you let it tower over you and stand where it feels as if it's arms are about envelop you... 
 
 I know I sent you pictures but to be present in the same room with it is the only way you can understand. 
 
 She's going to do an `` opening'' viewing for our patrons. I, of course, have to go with her. For once, I feel like she means it when she says she wants me to go with her. I feel as if I have to protect her because everything about this statue and the exhibit are fucking creepy. 
 
 I love my little Mary Shelly, but this time she's created something much worse than Frankenstein. She finished it and has n't been back to see it since Thursday, and her being the perfectionist, this is a first. I think we're also beginning to share the same nightmares. 
 
 One night she fell asleep in my arms and cries in her sleep. She was pitiful but I almost felt from outside the room something I could n't protect her from. 
 
 God I ca n't wait until this exhibit is done and she can just go back to doing special effects make up and puppets. 
 
 Thanks by the way for the coffee. It's not as good as when you make it though. 
 
 All the best, 
 J 
 
 
 Kyle, 
 
 Please read this all the way through. I'm not sure what's going to happen over the next few days. I might be arrested. I know I told you about the exhibit. I thought it'd be a short affair and we could duck out after a bit. 
 
 We show up to the warehouse where she had it delivered a couple hours earlier and walk in. We were the only car parked outside the place and even worse the streetlights were out. It looked as if the entire block was blacked out. 
 
 But the chanting, God the chanting called us in and when we entered, there were at least 50 people wearing dark robes gathered around the statue which stood in front of an altar with a strange book which swore was glowing. The warehouse was lit by soft candles and darkness seemed to ooze from the edge of the candle light. Off to the side were lambs and that's when I knew we were over hour heads 
 
 We did n't know what was going on and I took her by the hand to leave when he finally greeted us, her really, as his guests of honor. 
 
 Underneath the robes I could recognize him by voice and stature. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a large chair, the only chair and sat her down. 
 
 That's when it began. They took the lambs and bled them over the altar. And the chanting grew. The wind began to roar and lightning struck. Kyle, I know this sounds like a bad movie or I'm insane, but I could feel the top of the sky opening. 
 
 The statue's eyes began to glow as the continued to chant. Finally, our patron stood in front of the altar and called to her what I could n't even call Latin. It sounded alien and that's when they began die. 
 
 Each one was ripped open. The robed figures gave way to what looked like a long, hairy tendril. 
 
 I looked at her, but she fainted, and I envied her for a moment before I realized I must do something. The sky tore in thunderous cracks within the warehouse and the lights began to power on and seemed to glow as if it were a power surge. The candle flames began to grow. From the holes in the sky you could see her eyes. 
 
 She began to reach from the holes towards her. 
 
 I yelled for them to stop but they seemed to be hosts for her long fingers and they seemed to be grabbing hold as if to pull her into this world. 
 
 I ran to the altar in a flash of inspiration, fear driving me forward and holding me back. I took a candle and held it to the bloodied book and it began to burn and cackle with laughter. 
 
 She looked upon me, from everywhere. The ceremonial blade on the altar still lay there fresh with sacrificial blood and I can not say what I told me to, but I stabbed that statue. I stabbed it and it began to crumble into dust and I heard saw her fingers retreat. The sky began to repair but those eyes glared death upon me. 
 
 As the statue became dust and her fingers no more than the bloody entrails of her followers I picked her up and ran to the car. I drove like a madman and now I wait. 
 
 I dare not sleep, though she rests now. 
 
 I know that mother is gone for the time being, because I severed that connection, but I know I ca n't kill her. She'll wait and wait until the sky will be torn again. But most likely before when my soul is done and my body resembles the statue: crumbled, broken and lifeless mother will have fun with me. 
 
 Kyle, I feel sleep coming to me, and the shadows now hold more sinister things for me. 
 
 Pray for me 
 J 
 
 
 `` That is not dead which can eternal lie, 
 And with strange aeons even death may die.''
