Gemotions

A sickness rose in David’s throat. He'd poured his heart, his secrets, his very soul into those sculptures. Now, they were on display in the town square, massive and imposing. They’d been stolen from his studio months ago, but he’d hoped, prayed, that they wouldn't be found.

He hid behind a towering oak, watching the townsfolk marvel at his creations, unaware of their true origins. His stomach churned. He wanted to scream, to shout the truth, but his voice seemed trapped in his chest. A knot formed in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He gripped the rough bark of the tree, his knuckles white. The light of the setting sun cast long, distorted shadows, mirroring the grotesque figures in the square. A shudder racked his body. He felt a desperate urge to run, to disappear into the gathering darkness.