Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2137300
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2137300
A writer gets inspiration from a mysterious source. 1000 points for 200-word critiques.
(This story is a bit experimental)

Sarah insisted on talking about having kids again. Maybe. It’s a big step. I just wanted more time to think about it and prepare. Her work is going very well. She sells most of her pieces and is often out and about photographing new scenes for new projects. But me? Maybe just writer’s block. Maybe I’ve run out of ideas. Maybe her budgie distracts me, always warbling and chattering. Give it time.

I think I’ve got it! An idea for a new novel came to me. About an artist who invents a whole new concept in painting, but his ideas have a message which he subconsciously puts into his images. Then some people discover the message is about secret conspiracies involving the global elite. He’s kidnapped when a secret government organization hear about it. Could work.

Got interrupted from writing last night by some guy selling bibles. Strange man! He wore a white robe with a hood that mostly covered his face. He mumbled so much, that if it hadn’t been for him thrusting the good book at me, I might not have understood what he wanted.

I have to be honest, I’m not much of a bible reader and don’t practice as much as I should. Sarah keeps telling me to make an effort. Her parents would be much happier, and she’d like it too. Not that it’s a relationship breaker. She would never demand it. She knew I was only borderline religious before we moved in together. Perhaps she thought she could change me.

Anyhow, I took a bible from the guy and paid him. He mumbled something under his breath as he turned and walked off. Not very nice breath either. And the bible was almost as bad. Someone had scribbled some foreign stuff in the back cover. Latin, I think. Tried to read it, but no idea what it means.

Not sure about the novel. I might try something different to writing. Something with visual art. Perhaps I’ll create my own artwork to go with the books. I am feeling quite visual today, and quite artistic. I’d been looking at paintings by Francis Bacon on the web. Very disturbing stuff, I think. I remember being taught at high school how to draw a face by starting with an oval outline. In fact, the whole body can be made up from ovals. Yet this Bacon guy painted portraits so distorted, so twisted, I can’t help thinking how far from being ovals they are.

Can’t seem to get Bacon out of my head now. Every time I draw a face, it looks wrong, like it’s not round enough. Must practise at that. Sarah was impressed at my effort to read the bible. She agreed that we needn’t hurry to have kids. Just hoped we could talk about it and start planning for the future.

ADD A STAR She wants to invite a guest for dinner on Thursday. A friend of a friend who looked at her portfolio might be interested. I think she’s trying to ingratiate herself. Someone with a lot of money. Not sure if I like the idea myself. I think she’s good enough to do well without having to suck up to some rich asshole who probably wouldn’t know art if it bit him on the nose. I said I’ll think about it, but to be honest, will probably give in to stay in her good books.

I bought a load of paper, pencils and water-paints. I feel like making something modern, full of symbolism and geometry, Kandinsky-esque. It’s becoming something of an obsession. Just can’t seem to get it right. Sarah came home and had a look. She wasn’t too happy and asked why I was messing around with such stuff, when I had lots of work to do at writing. ADD A STAR She doesn’t understand. She’s never had to write novels and can’t know about writer’s block or the stress of having to come up with new ideas, when your mind is blank.

All I can think of now is circles and shapes. I’ve been sketching figures, like little wooden artist’s models, you know, with the bendy arms and legs. The heads don’t seem right. I think it’s the faces rather than the shape. ADD A STAR I prefer the round heads most, but the face always ruins it. I’ll need more paper soon.

Ok, maybe I need to get out more. Too much time stuck indoors. That might give me new ideas and get rid of this tense feeling I’m getting. This morning I’ve done nothing but sketch hundreds of figures and quite a lot of faces too. GET THE BIRD If you can call them faces. Lots of them have shapes for faces. I started with question marks, then other punctuation, then decided triangles were better. The star-shapes were best.

I’ve also been reading up about mid-20th Century art. Salvador Dali, Jackson Pollock, Mondrian, Gilbert and George. Yeah, I know, I’d never heard of Gilbert and George either. I wish I never had. They used their own bodily fluids. Sounds disgusting to me. I’m just looking for new ideas. GET THE BIRD

She’s adamant that ‘James’ is coming over tomorrow. It does bug me, that I can’t really object. I’ve no idea what this ‘James’ is going to be like, even though she keeps saying how useful it could be for her career. Maybe ‘James’ is a great expert on art. Maybe ‘James’ is an expert on cooking. Maybe ‘James’ is an expert on washing dishes.

Sarah’s going to kill me! I didn’t get much bible reading in this morning. CUT THE BIRD I’m too excited about my sketches. I had a great little idea. I think the inspiration came from Pollock. Action painting. The budgie kept chirping, non-stop, and then the vision came to me. I popped him out his little cage and dabbed paint onto his feet. Then I put him under a plastic bowl and let him jump around on some paper.

She won’t really kill me. She’ll probably never know. CUT THE BIRD I think it worked out quite well, but the paint looked a bit flat. How did Pollock get his stuff to look so alive? I need different paints perhaps. Oil paints or something thicker. Or maybe Pollock isn’t my thing. I’ll try Gilbert and George next.

I was right the first time. She will kill me. I blame Gilbert and George. I think it will heal up and no-one will notice. But it really worked beautifully. Especially the ones where I popped the Budgie on the faces I’d drawn. He jumped around like crazy, making a very lively red pattern. I love the way it made blotches in places, and now it’s dry it has a nice 3D effect.

I’ve decided James can’t come. I haven’t spoken to Sarah yet, but I’m not having it. CUT THE THROAT Coming into my house and gawping at my girl. And as for her, I know what she’s like. She’ll just egg him on. Little bitch.

It seemed to work at first, but now I’ve decided it’s all a pile of shit. God damn bird, it just kept trying to scratch me. I sure taught that little shit a lesson. He won’t be chirping for a while. I flushed the bits down the toilet. Made a lot of mess on the coffee table, but managed to catch most of the blood on the sketches. Looked good at the time, but now I’m bored. Not that I’ve had enough of faces and stars and blood. I just need a fresh perspective. Something exciting. Something dramatic, perhaps dangerous.

Pollock used to put huge canvasses on the floor and drip and pour the paint. CARVE THE GUEST I think that’s it! It needs to be much bigger and bolder. I need to lay out a canvas and let the colors drip and spray. I guess I need spray-paints. I’ll have to go to the hardware store. CARVE THE GUEST

Bitch! She said ‘James’, darling ‘James’ is coming over whether I like it or not. I don’t even have to be there! Thanks. I’ll just get lost for dinner. Let them have my house to themselves for a couple hours. No chance! He’ll be here in an hour. Bitch is getting tarted up.

Earlier, that strange guy with the white robe came to the door, asking how I am! CARVE THE GUEST I almost closed the door in his face. I wasn’t in the mood for his preaching. But then he gave me a parcel. Said it was for special occasions. I had to cut off the brown paper to get inside the damn thing. Kind of weird now I think about it. It was an electric kitchen knife. How did he know we were having roast beef for dinner? And only a bit earlier I was thinking I needed to get one from the hardware store. CARVE THE GUEST

I still need to go, though, for my spray-paints, but now that can wait till after dinner. I just need to finish sorting out my makeshift canvas on the floor of the spare room. I’m going to make some preparations. I liked the idea of round heads with star faces, so I think I’ll paint some of those again. CARVE THEM BOTH

Interesting evening we had. Quite tiring actually. I needn’t have worried about the budgie after all. Sarah definitely won’t kill me. James wasn’t so bad. I thought he’d be an arrogant, selfish dick, a tough guy. Well, okay, he was an arrogant dick, but turned out quite soft, especially the legs.

Still, what’s important is the artwork – a real masterpiece. Of course I didn’t need the spray-paints. It sprayed very well as it was. Very sticky hands now. Made such a mess on my shoe, which annoys me, because they were expensive. I’ll have to throw them. Seems a waste, to throw away both shoes just because one of them is ruined. But what can I do with one bloody shoe? LOSE THE LEG
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