Chapter 64 - Chapter 58: The sculptors

The Art Room in Hills High School was a place that was seldom visited at night. In fact, the only person who ever came to the art room in the middle of the night was the school guard. He would walk through the dark and empty corridors, his flashlight beam bouncing off the walls as he made his rounds.

One night, as he was making his usual rounds, the guard noticed something strange. The art room door was slightly ajar, and there was a dim light coming from within. He frowned and approached cautiously, wondering who could be in there at this time of night.

As he peered inside, he saw something that he could hardly believe. There were two figures in the room, both of them hunched over a large block of marble. They were both wearing dark clothing, and the only sound in the room was the soft tapping of chisels against stone.

The guard cleared his throat, hoping to get their attention. The two figures stopped what they were doing and turned to face him. The guard could see that they were both wearing masks, which only added to the eerie atmosphere of the room.

"Who are you?" the guard demanded, shining his flashlight at them. "What are you doing here?"

The two figures didn't answer, but they didn't seem hostile either. They simply went back to their work, chiseling away at the stone as if the guard wasn't even there.

The guard stood there for a few more moments, feeling more and more unnerved by the minute. He was about to leave and call the police when something caught his eye. It was a sculpture that was half-finished, but even in its incomplete state, it was stunningly beautiful.

The guard couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had never seen anything like it before, and he wondered who could have possibly made such a thing. He looked back at the two mysterious figures, who were still chiseling away at their own block of stone.

Without a word, the guard left the art room and went back to his post. He spent the rest of his shift trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed, but he couldn't come up with any logical explanation.

The next day, the guard reported what he had seen to the school authorities. They searched the art room, but there was no sign of anyone having been there. There was no block of marble, no chisels, and no unfinished sculpture.

The guard was left feeling even more confused than before. He couldn't shake the feeling that what he had seen had been real, but he couldn't prove it.

Days turned into weeks, and the mystery of the two sculptors in the art room faded from the guard's mind. He went back to his regular routine of patrolling the school at night, but every now and then, he would glance over at the art room and wonder what was really going on in there.

It wasn't until a month later that the guard had another encounter with the mysterious sculptors. This time, he was walking through the halls when he heard the sound of stone scraping against stone. He followed the noise until he found himself back at the art room door.

He peered inside once again and saw the same two figures working on a new piece of marble. This time, they had made progress. The sculpture was taking shape, and it was even more beautiful than the first one he had seen.

The guard couldn't resist. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his flashlight beam illuminating the room. The two figures turned to look at him once again, but they didn't seem surprised to see him.

"Who are you?" the guard asked again. "What are you doing here?"

One of the sculptors stepped forward and removed his mask. The

guard recognized him as one of the art teachers at the school. The other figure remained silent, continuing to work on the sculpture.

"We're sculptors," the teacher said simply. "We come here at night to work on our art."

The guard was taken aback. He had never heard of any teachers at the school doing something like this before.

"Why do you work at night?" the guard asked, his curiosity piqued.

The teacher looked at him with a small smile. "Because we don't want anyone to know what we're doing. We want our art to speak for itself, without any outside influences or biases."

The guard nodded, understanding the sentiment. He looked at the sculpture again, and he couldn't help but be amazed by the skill and precision that had gone into it.

"It's beautiful," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The second sculptor removed his mask as well, revealing himself to be another art teacher at the school. He nodded in agreement with the guard's assessment of the sculpture.

"We're glad you appreciate it," he said. "We don't usually show our work to anyone."

The guard was about to ask more questions, but the two sculptors suddenly looked at each other and then back at him.

"We have to go," the first sculptor said. "We can't be caught here."

The guard watched as the two teachers quickly packed up their tools and cleaned up the art room. They left without another word, disappearing into the night like ghosts.

The guard was left standing there, feeling more curious than ever before. He wondered how long the two sculptors had been coming to the art room at night, and how many masterpieces they had created that no one else had ever seen.

Over the next few weeks, the guard would sometimes catch glimpses of the two sculptors in the art room, but he never approached them again. He respected their desire for privacy, and he was content to simply admire their art from afar.

It wasn't until the end of the school year that the two sculptors finally revealed their secret to the rest of the school. They had created a gallery of their work, and they had invited the entire school to come and see it.

The guard was among the first to enter the gallery, and he was stunned by what he saw. The sculptures were breathtakingly beautiful, and they spoke of a level of skill and talent that was truly awe-inspiring.

The two sculptors were finally able to share their art with the world, and the school was richer for it. The guard never forgot about the mysterious sculptors in the art room, and he was proud to have been one of the few who had been privileged enough to see their work in progress.