I completely forgot about this community! It wasn't until today that I remembered posting one of my first pieces years ago, and I feel like I've made good progress 'shopping since then. So here's a recent piece that goes against the grain, with an inverted sink. I've always had a thing for feet and seeing them as the last part of someone before they disappear, so here's mine in their "final moments."
Here's a story to accompany it, in case that's of interest!
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In the midst of a deep, unforgiving jungle, I find my path blocked by a pit of mud. My trek has already gone overlong for the day, and I can't afford to let the sun go down before reaching the next outpost.
I look left and see the mud continue to stretch as far as the eye can see before disappearing around the corner of the overgrown flora. To the right, the mud comes to a stop a hundred feet away against an impassible, rocky cliff face.There's no option to find a way around to continue my expedition... with the dwindling daylight, my only choice is to cross.
Then I spot it. An old tree, surely near the end of its life, leaning precariously near the mud on my side of the pit, which looks to be hanging in place only by a few vines wrapped around its middle. It's only a short climb to reach them, but I'll need all the traction and grip I can get. I untie my boots and let my bare feet breathe the crisp, open air, then unsheathe a small machete from my pouch and grip it in my teeth.
As I make the climb, toes barely able to get a hold on the small gaps between the tree's bark, the thought of ending a tree's life before its naturally appointed time crosses my mind, and how the locals warned of such acts bringing bad fortune. "I'm sorry," I whisper, starting to cut the vines with a rapid sawing motion. Before I'm able to sever the first vine, the tree suddenly gives way on its own.
My shrill scream pierces the otherwise tranquil scene as I'm ejected forcefully from the falling tree, which catches itself on another set of thick vines before it can collapse.
If only I were so lucky.
Had anyone been around to witness the unfortunate events, they would have seen a pair of barefoot, struggling legs, kicking madly as they protruded out from the dead-center of the mud pit, the victim's toes pointing toward the jungle canopy above. As the seconds passed, the frantic movements of her feet gradually turned to erratic quivers, then merely light twitching, until finally, the only movement left was the slow, deadly descent of her legs into the thick sludge.
Over the course of a few minutes, the mud gently caresses the departed adventurer's heels, before slurping them up with a ruthless hunger. A few errant bubbles of air surface and pop, splattering flecks of mud onto her supple, wrinkled soles, and then... with a deep squelch, the rest of her feet, ending with her lightly clenched toes, limply slip into the wet, carnivorous soil, leaving no trace of her behind (save for a discarded pair of boots at the base of the still standing tree).