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Rated: E · Fiction · Dark · #2212533
Flash Fiction - WC 197

Still Life

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.

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