The Sentinel

The single-eyed creatures come in a variety of sizes.  One of them is five feet tall, standing at attention like a sentinel and looking down on me.  The taboret sits to the creature's right, holding the tools and materials used to piece together its body.

I'm sure the creature can see its flesh on the glass palette and that it watches me mixing and applying its skin.  Does it approve of my choices?  What would it do to me if I didn't meet its expectations?

As I work I often think of the story of Frankenstein's monster and I wonder what will happen when the last glob of paint is applied.