Flash Fiction - WC 197
“I guess I’ll just have to lace up your mouth. You talk too much.”
And that is just what he did. Now I am muffled. Unable to mutter a word.
His easel is before us. I have appeared like magic it seems. Paint now covers the pencil marks.
Do I really look like that to him?
John led me to the studio a few weeks ago. He said I was to be his muse, his model. He couldn’t live without me. We were to be soul-mates. Life wasn’t worth living without me. I believed him and walked willingly into his web.
We talked about art. We talked about life. We talked about love. But now, he says I talk too much.
I moved on the stool, tried to get comfortable.
“Sit still. You can’t move. Models cannot move. Now I’ll have to make sure you don’t move.”
So now I am still. He made sure of that.
My likeness is titled “Still-life with Apple”. It is a big success for John. He captured the very essence of not talking and not moving. I was his muse, and the best model he could have hoped for.