His Masterpiece... A Short Story

in #fiction5 years ago

Not the beginning...

He began with a little scratch, just enough to use the tiny little brush to smear small strokes. But then it seemed there just wasn't enough of red to make the idea really work.

He rubbed the bruise unconsciously while he thought...

For this image to truly come alive, perhaps he himself had to die. He picked up the knife again...

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Pixabay

His Masterpiece...

Tom wasn't just a weird lonely dude who feigned introversion because he lacked the guts to make friends. He was also a genius with horror art.

Every year was the same for Tom; his life was one slow, boring, almost ironically lifeless ticking body of time. Except on Halloweens.

On Halloweens Tom came alive, and the buzz of the town always seemed to go up a notch when he did. Almost everyone came to him for costume designs, scary balloons, terrible looking sculptures, and all sorts of unspeakable monstrosities.

And Tom satisfied everyone, always.

But then while he made Halloweens worth celebrating for others, Tom never did participate himself. Until this year.

This Halloween he had something different, if not special planned. It would be one of a kind, never before seen or heard of. It would be his greatest art yet. It would be his masterpiece...

Being driven by an urge he little understood, Tom set out to make the best horror art ever to be created...

...

From across the divide, I watched him...

I watched him when he first started with that mysterious sculpture. As every tiny piece was chopped off, my curiosity increased. For probably more times than I could count, I asked myself...

"What exactly was this human creating this time?"

Days went by, and he hardly paused. Over and over he carved the same spot. More than he ever did before. Until the figure was truly hollow. Still I couldn't sense that smell of satisfaction. Why that baffled me was strange, but the strangeness of it all only served to increase the intrigue. This time around, I was entranced.

Then slowly, as that monstrosity began to take its true shape, my own plans began to form. I needed a body, a real one, and this one called to me...

I knew now...

This human was not just creating a masterpiece...

He was creating me...

...

Tom examined the hollow sculpture with practiced eyes. After years of creating art, he was hardly impressed by them. But this one he now beheld had him hooked.

But it wasn't perfect. Not just yet. It needed a good coat of colour on specific parts. And Tom knew what would be perfect.. Blood red.

So Tom picked up his carving knife, and he set to work, on himself..

He began with a little scratch, just enough to use the tiny little brush to smear small strokes. But then it seemed there just wasn't enough of red to make the idea really work.

He rubbed the bruise unconsciously while he thought...

For this image to truly come alive, perhaps he himself also had to die. He picked up the knife again...

Three hours later, he was almost satisfied with his work. Then there was a knock on the door...

...

When I walked through the door of his studio that day, I lost all sanity. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. The lump that somehow appeared in my throat prevented me from making any sound. What I saw was simply an impossibility...

Tom stood in front of the mirror, a carving knife in his hand. Thick clots of bloody tissue lay around him on the floor. His back was turned to me, but I could see him through the mirror...

His eyes were gone, in their place two hollow sockets stared out at me. As I watched in shock, he inserted the knife through the hollow that was his left eye, and what was probably more brain particles fell on the floor.

Then he turned to me and smiled, his mouth falling open in the process. There was nothing inside, just thick hollow redness...

But that wasn't what finally released the screams in my throat...

No, it was the image in the mirror. It didn't turn with him...

I was looking at two carved out hollow bodies, and one wasn't even supposed to be real...

THE END...?

#SladenSpeaks


Written for @calluna's Tell A Story to me Contest

I have to say, I know little about Halloweens, except what I've seen in certain movies. And horror probably isn't my forte.

But then...


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This is awesome!!!! Lemme leave it there.

AWESOME!!! I salute your penmanship.

#bigwaves.


!popcorn

That's terrifying @seesladen. Well written and gripping from start to finish.

I upvoted your post.

Keep steeming for a better tomorrow.
@Acknowledgement - God Bless

Posted using https://Steeming.com condenser site.

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Wavy..
!popcorn

Wow. I didn't know about this horror vein lurking under your skin. Bravo!

Beware... It's yet to be fed it's fill.

Lol...

I didn't forget the family. Just been facing a terrible writer's block lately. Working on awakening though.

I just pass by and check the friend writers that come in my mind.. this is also because I'm a @co-in curator hence Im checking for good stories to submit for upvotes 😉 our pub is always open don't worry at all

Dude you are such a master of these mysterious openings. I adore the line you chose to begin on, and then how you set up a clear promise of horror and mystery before going into your premise. The intro creates a sense of curiosity, which you then feed, first with the wonder as to what Tom is making, then the slowly dawning of questioning the perspective, who is I? The possible prior connection between whatever it was that claimed the body, and Tom, the compulsion he felt to create his masterpiece. You create this space of mystery, and then tie up all of your loose threads in a horrific ending. using how own blood to paint it, carving out his eyes in a macabre homage to his creation. A great horror story, but in terms of writing one for me, kick ass!!

☺️
Why... Thanks very much!

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