Resin

Nymphs and jewellery.

James Brawne, extraordinary Jeweller and reputed recluse was engaged in a project that he should never have begun. His list of commissions filled his diary for the next two years from everything to the smallest earring to the largest pendant in gold, silver and gems of every size and colour. He had tried to make a start on each and every one but they all bored him lacking in inspiration. As this was his one profession, his career, his calling that he excelled at, it galled him that he would have to tarnish his business by disappointing any customers. In desperation James decided to put all commissions aside and to take up a personal project that he had begun a long time ago but had never found the time to finish.

Pulling the framework from the dusty top shelf that served as a graveyard for unfinished pieces, James was shocked that he had done so little on the project. He remembered it as one of his first inspirations, before he became widely popular with high paying clientele. He had been truly obsessed with the golden gem that he had first learned as Bernstein and then later as Amber. His father had been a historian specialising in the Russian Empire and had hoped that one day his bright-eyed son would join in him in the academic ranks. It was his discovery of the Bernsteinzimmer or Amber Room in the pages of the history books that had changed him completely. The gift given to Peter the Great in 1716, even in the aged photographs, fascinated James and dictated that he would strive to create something so awe inspiring. From those pages he could feel his calling screaming.
   
He had left home to pursue an apprenticeship in jewellery making far from his father and the disappointed gaze that he couldn’t bear to be under. Any ill feelings or self-doubt that he may have had streamed out of him as he began forming shapes and intricate plays with different materials. The skeleton of a figure that he held in his hand brought memories of the determination to make what was in his head visible to all. James had fostered grand ideas that his craftwork would be of such high quality that they would beg him to allow it to be shown within the recreation of the Amber Room. Later he had recognised it as his own naivety and impatience that had led him to believe that he could, in a matter of days, create a masterpiece. Returning to the neglected project he laughed at his idiotic frustration that he actually had to spend time to achieve his goals.
   
James could already feel the giddy excitement that came with an idea that he was truly passionate about. Just running his fingers over the framework that he had formed all those years ago sent a thrill up his spine. He could see how the piece would look once he was finished, each process was quickly fitted into place and he grinned like an idiot as he prepared the workbench. He carefully lay out his tools almost to the point of obsession, ensuring that they were all within easy reach so that he would not have to look away from his work when immersed. With everything set out in preparation it was time to turn to the material that he was so eager to caress. James searched through crate after crate, his arms flailing in increasing desperation as his fear grew to the memory of using the last of his shipment of Baltic Amber for the piece sent to the Lady Anne-Marie. He hadn’t liked the commission and had felt it a great shame to waste such beautiful raw material on a mere dust covered trinket collector. Nothing but Amber would do and it would be another week or two before another shipment would arrive, even if he ordered it that very day. Pacing around his workshop, he rubbed his hands together in aggravation, his eyes never leaving the prepared framework. He needed this project, it needed to be completed.
   
In a flash James was scurrying amongst his materials once more, his arms digging with even more fury than before. He moved the crates out of his way so that he could reach the various odds and ends that littered the shelves at the back of the workshop. Box and tin were rattled and then cast aside until one seemed to serve James’ purpose and he clutched it to his chest as he sat himself at his workbench. He let the contents fall gently with a faint clatter and quickly began sorting through them. There were big and small pieces some rough and others smooth but all were of high quality Amber from the Baltic. He set aside the larger chunks and attempted to ensure that they were all of a similar hue and another bout of searching provided him with the Amber resin that he would need to cement the pieces together. Taking a deep breath and with interlocked fingers he stretched and loosened his joints and immersed himself within his passion.
   
It took just over a week for the Amber figurine to take shape and to be perfected to James’ initial satisfaction. It stood in pride of place on his windowsill allowing the sunlight to filter through, glowing golden. It highlighted the patchwork nature of the figure but James had fallen in love with it. Its female form was only accentuated by what looked like veins running all over its body. The face was purposefully non descript only showing its human features in the most subtle of ways. The torso was not sullied by indecent attention yet it radiated the distinctly female contours and curves, the arms and legs with their slender yet robust structure and polish. Free standing it didn’t require a base and James would catch himself imaging the figure moving, dancing in the beaming sunlight. It truly was a piece that he was proud of and obsessed with, purely for his own pleasure he knew that it would stay with him, never to be sold or shown to the public eye. As he fell asleep after days of intense work, he held the image of his Amber fancy so that it would filter into his dreams.
   
In the utter darkness of the workshop, in the dead of night, James’ soft and metered snores were accompanied by another sound, alien to the surroundings. It began so very quietly that it was barely a sound at all; a creaking, rhythmic rocking that grew louder as it gained momentum. It continued for aching minutes becoming more and more frenzied, breaking James’ asleep ever so slightly as he turned onto his side and mumbled a jumble of mutterings. Once more all fell silent in the room only to be shattered by the arrival of an ear splitting scream. It gave James the terrified levity to spring from his cot, arms raised in defence and his eyes struggling to open. The shriek was ripping its way through his head and he could feel his bones vibrating all the way to his toes. Dazed and more confused than fearful he stumbled towards the far wall and fumbled for the evasive light switch.
   
As soon as the light dinked its way on the screaming halted and James felt the ringing in his head that it achingly left behind. Realising that his eyes were clamped shut he cautiously opened one and then the other. Nothing seemed out of place, there wasn’t an intruder; there was no evidence of anyone or anything having been in the workshop other than him. Rubbing his face and yawning widely he sat himself back down on his cot, already wondering whether he had just had a very loud nightmare. What worried him was that he was sure that he was awake and could hear something peculiar. A scratching sobbing sound interjected with deep ragged breaths. It was definitely coming from the window and expecting to see someone in the street, James was speechless to see what was sitting on his windowsill.
   
With her legs crossed and her hands covering her face, the Amber figurine was not in the position that she should have been. What had previously been an inanimate thing of beauty was now most definitely animated. Her petite chest heaved up and down in imitation of breath and she was rubbing her eyes, or at least where her eyes would have been if James had decided to craft them. He leaned closer and reached out to touch the thing, hoping that if he held it in his hand it would return to normal.

“Get away from me!”

The voice was so full of rage that James’ instincts drew his hand back to his chest painfully quickly.

“Get out, get out, get out!” The rasping quality of the voice grated in James’ ears, loud and deep, he could not understand how it could come from such a little thing.

“Um…hello?”

“What have you done?” James wasn’t sure that the question was even spoken by the figurine; it was so quiet and timid. Before his mouth could move to respond she began sobbing loudly and desperately. James watched her in fascination, his mind had jumped over the question of reality and his inquisitive nature had taken over. He wanted to know more, who was she? Had he done this, somehow willed her to be alive? With his forefinger he slowly began stroking the smooth surface that was her baldhead, attempting to soothe.

“Shh now little one, Shh. Tell me who you are, tell me what I have done.” For what felt like an aching eon his only response was sobbing, which turned to sniffling, and soft murmurs that he could not make out. Seeming to have calmed, the figurine ducked away from James’ finger and stood up.

“I will speak.” This voice was authorative and strong.

“Ok, then I will listen.”

“Where are we?”

“Generally or specifically? Right now you’re in my workshop.” At this she looked around confused, not seeming to understand James’ answer.

“Where are our carers? We cannot sense our forefathers, why?”

“Who? Wait, wait, I don’t know any of the answers you’re looking for. I made you not too long ago, a beautiful piece crafted with my own hands. You shouldn’t even be moving. Tell me, who are you?”

“We are seed, destined to be of Nymphean lineage. We each should have carers to aid our growth and ensure our safety as we carry on the line. We cannot sense our parentage, this should not be.”

“As in Nymph, as in the creatures from Greek myth?” James contemplated this for a while; debating within himself as to the plausibility and decided to that he did not care. It made a good story to have met a Nymph even if it was in a temporary state of madness. He noticed the figurine tracing the lines of the joins in the Amber.

“You say you made us…why? Why are we together like this?”

“I…because that is what I do, I craft jewellery and ornaments from beautiful and exotic gems for my own pleasure and for money. I had to make you that way because I didn’t have enough stock of Amber to carve you from one piece, so I improvised and used Amber resin as a kind of glue.”

“You have taken many seeds…have put them together to make this form. Imbecile, we are not one. Locked together in this figure of fancy, we cannot stay this way. Cannot!” In anger she began scraping at her seams, attempting to unmake James’ weeks of work.

“Hey, stop! You can’t do that, do you know how long it took to make you?”

“You should not have begun, this is not of our doing. Only yours. Why should we stay in torture? We are bound together, all of us wanting to take action tearing apart, screaming and screaming. We will dismantle until our carers come.”

“These carers, what exactly would they do?”

“Help us grow, we unite, protected by the carers we become stronger and together we become Nymph. Each of us must have our own carer. We wish to know what has happened to our parentage.”

“The trees?”

“Seed and carer become Nymph, Nymph becomes tree. It is the cycle. Where are they?”

“They’ve all gone. Under water. Where you’re from, it’s a sea; there haven’t been any trees there for god knows how long. People have been collecting pieces of Amber, Seeds I guess, for hundreds and hundreds of years.”

“More seeds?”

“Well yes, but they don’t talk. They’re just beautiful gems, lifeless but highly desirable in jewellery and things.”

“Then we are the only Seeds ready for growth, because of you. You must be one of our carers and you must find more. We will live, lineage cannot end it must continue, even if an eon has passed.”

“Me? I…I don’t know, I don’t even really understand who you are, what you are. I assume that this unity that you speak of, means bad things for me.”

“You will assist the continuation of a race, it is a duty that you cannot ignore. Would you destroy us even after you have given us form and prepared us for life?” The gravity of the question weighed heavily on James. The short encounter with the figurine had blown his mind into bemused acceptance but this was a completely different kettle of fish.

“Will it hurt?”

“That does not concern us. Hold us to you and it will begin.”

“Just like that huh? We only live once I suppose. At least I didn’t create a monster, just brought to life something that probably existed when humans were still living in caves. The Nymphs, are they as beautiful as the myths say?”

“Beautiful and majestic. The world grieves without them.” James put out his hand and the figurine stepped onto his palm. She was so very light and when he closed his fingers to hold her he could feel the warmth radiating from her. At least he knew that she was the most beautiful thing he had made and maybe this was how it was meant to be. What he had created was a part of him, him a part of it, this was just a very dark parody that left James not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Lying in the darkness with the little figurine sheltered and warmed in his hand, James could feel one of the Seeds soaking into his skin. Was it the arm? The leg? Or maybe part of the torso. Did it matter? What would he be tomorrow? Would he still be James Brawne? How long would it be before he was no longer human? Lying in the dark he chastised himself for finishing the project that he should never have begun.