Stone Skin

By Cassandra Hamm

“You’re hurting me, Wynn.”

Wynnstan let go of Gemma’s hand. “Sorry.” He glared at his stone fingers, wishing for the hundredth—perhaps thousandth—time that his hands could be soft and delicate, able to hold Gemma like she deserved to be held.

She rubbed her hands together. The creek’s low rumble filled the silence as they navigated the rocky path to the water’s edge. “It’s okay.”

The words were a never-ending echoed refrain after every failed solution, every false hope: “It’s okay, Wynn. We’ll figure this out.” But the trace of sadness never left her smile.

Gemma kicked off her sandals and sat on the rocky shore, submerging her feet in the slow-moving, murky water. Wynnstan joined her. The creek nibbled at his legs, and the soft splashing sounds reminded him of suckling piglets. But he felt none of it.

He gazed into the water. His massive figure dwarfed Gemma’s. Chipped boulders, connected at the joints, formed a monstrous body that creaked with every movement. Beady dark eyes, tiny rock nose, gaping mouth hole.

Could Gemma really love someone who wasn’t truly alive?

“I was at the library yesterday.” Her red hair glinted golden in the midday sunlight. The one time he’d touched it, he’d almost torn it off her head. “I found something that might change you—”

“It won’t work.” His shoulders sagged. “Like the pig-snout potion, or the dragonbreath brew—which almost killed me, as you may have forgotten.”

“Really, Wynn.” Gemma grabbed his hand, rubbing his fingers. What he wouldn’t do to feel her touch. If his eyes were human, they’d fill with tears. “One scholar said that frog’s blood mixed with human hair—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” No more vile potions forced down his throat. No more disappointment when the same stone face stared back at him. No more dreams of having a normal, human relationship with Gemma.

“I just wanted to help.”  She pulled her hand away. Would my hand feel cold now without hers in it?

He sighed. “I know, Gem.” But some things couldn’t be helped. The dream of becoming a human should have died when Wynnstan’s creator shriveled away under the plague’s cruel grip.

He turned his eyes to the brown water meandering down the creek. “What if I stay a golem forever?”

“Then I will love you as a golem forever.”

How could she? He’d never even kissed her, too afraid his stone lips would bruise hers.

From the first day, he had loved her—when she stood up to the men firing crossbows at him, though the bolts could do him no harm, because he wandered too close to one of their homes. Her hair had glinted like fire, and her expression showed… compassion. For him. Humans, he had realized, could be good, and not see him only as a monster.

But she deserved better than him.

“Don’t you… Would you rather…?” Wynnstan stopped.

“Would I rather what?”

“Don’t you want a human?” he blurted. “Someone who can hold you. Who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“I want you, Wynn.” Gemma took his face in her hands—How I long to feel them!—and kissed him.

Nothing. He felt nothing—

Wait. There, a flicker—a soothing pressure against his mouth, his cheeks. Tingling in his chest.

Gemma jerked away with a yelp reminiscent of a pup. She pressed a hand to her mouth, strange little squeaks escaping her fingers. “Wynnstan, you’re… changing!”

His body’s rigidness faltered, and it drooped, weak, almost unable to hold itself up. He gazed at his hands, gray darkening to brown, gaining shape. He bent his fingers. They flexed, silent and smooth.

The creek reflected back a human—rich brown skin, hairless head, broad form. He gaped.

“How…?” Gemma’s eyes sparkled with tears. “All the magic we tried didn’t work, yet a simple kiss…”

“I’m human,” he whispered. His voice was no longer gravelly, just deep and smooth. His tongue wandered around the soft squishiness of his mouth, the hardness of his teeth.

Now the tears streamed down her face. “You’re human.”

He reached out and touched one of the tears. It was the same texture as the creek on his legs—water. And her skin… His fingers roamed the red blush of her cheeks, moving to the curve of her jaw. This must be what softness felt like.

“Oh, Wynn!”

She touched the hand cupping her face. He grasped it, tracing the lines on her palm. He shivered. Her hand shook, and it was… warm.

Wynnstan caressed her fiery hair, so delicate and intricate and perfect. He never again needed to fear ripping it from her skull. His strength was that of a man, not of a golem.

“You’ll feel pain now.” Her voice wobbled. “And you… you could die—”

“I don’t care,” he said, taking her face in his hands. His flesh throbbed with awareness and heat. “I would rather live a human lifetime feeling you than a thousand lifetimes in my stone prison.”

Her eyes brightened with the sky, as stirring as the breeze that brushed his skin. “I love you, Wynn,” she whispered. “I loved you as a golem, and I love you as a man.”

He kissed her. Her lips moved against his, firm and soft at the same time, an intoxicating moistness. Her arms slipped around him. This was what alive meant.

She pulled back, her breath fanning against his lips. “I’m glad my kiss didn’t change you back to a golem.”

“Me, too.” He blinked, his eyelashes resting briefly against his cheek like a soft embrace. “I can see why you humans like kissing so much.”

Gemma entwined their fingers, milk-white against earth-brown. His newly awakened skin sang at the touch.

“Not ‘you humans’ anymore,” she said. “Now you’re one of us.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cassandra Hamm has always been fascinated by the inner workings of the human mind. She received her B.S. in psychology and continues to apply her knowledge to her characters. Her love of writing prompts has spurred her to start blogging, submit stories to amazing websites like this one, and host flash fiction contests on Instagram. She may or may not be obsessed with cats, jigsaw puzzles, movie soundtracks, and musicals.

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