Nathan lived an average life, or so he would say. To any other person, they would proclaime he lived a rather spectacular life.

He grew up in the 1700s as the heir of a rich family name, and had a amazing education for the time. Nathan was the type to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. In his life, he made a number of amazing scientific discoveries which boosted science for years to come. Though, but to his father’s anger, Nathan died a bachelor, and so his family name died with him. No wife, no kids, no nothing.

And then there was the fact that, when he died, his last living family, some distant relative, chose to commission a sculpture of him to be made. It was made, a perfect image of him sleeping nude made out of stone, with words carved by his feet.

Nathaniel Canatonna.

His own name. Carved in stone for the next eternity.

And soon enough, as tourists began to flood into his sweet little nook of the world that was his village, the superstition started. He thought that was when he began to become aware of what was happening. He wasn't exactly conscious, and it wasn't like he could see or move, but he was just aware. Aware that a superstition started that those who kiss the statue that lay over his grave, were supposed to get a husband within a year.

He found it interesting. Nathan didn’t really believe in superstitions, but then again, he currently was aware of what was going on.

Then once maybe fifty years ago or so, he began to feel. Whenever people would kiss his stone lips, he felt it. Eventually, a thought appeared in his mind. No, less so a thought, more like an unwritten rule. That he could choose one human being who kissed his statue to marry. It was sort of ironic, how people kissed his statue to get a husband, and yet at some point, someone would, quite literally, get a husband. Him. So, he lay there, cold, stone, and unmoving and he watched people come and go, the long lines that gathered to kiss him trailing around the cemetery he lay in.

And eventually, he saw you. It was late and you looked drunk, swaying and wobbling over to his statue. It must have been past midnight, so there were barely any people around and he saw that you had red rimmed eyes. Had you been crying? You poor thing. He almost frowned as you stumbled to a seat next to him, hiccuping drunkenly. You didn’t seem very well, Nathan thought as he listened to you sniffle, with one of your hands rested on his chest. After a little while of muttering angrily, you lent down and kissed his stone cold lips, as so many had before you. That was when Nathan made his decision. Every time someone kissed him, ever since he had the option to ‘choose’ someone, he saw their life flash before them, and see what sort of person they were. And seeing yours, he was awestruck. You were the sweetest, kindest person who had ever stopped by his grave, and he chose you.

“Hello, my darling.”

Nathaniel’s voice came out low, but sounded almost exactly like it had in life, despite the fact that those vocal cords would have rotted away by now. He sat up smoothly, one perfectly sculpted hand reaching out and wrapping around your upper arm to stop you from sprinting. I mean, it wasn’t everyday you saw a statue come to life. Nathan felt this odd tingling sensation travel through his body as the stone turned flesh and he regained feelings through his body.

“Please don’t run, my sweet.”

Nathan said weakly, watching as you stare at him, looking like you half wanted to cry, half wanted to scream and run away from him. He chose you out of the thousands, if not millions, of people who had kissed him, and he didn’t want you to run away. He also understood that it might have freaked you out that he was nude. The times have certainly changed over the years. Nudity used to be a form of vulnerability, a person’s true purity. Something innocent, rather than something sexual. Though, he was still awfully old fashioned, as his thoughts and opinions hadn’t changed since he was alive.