The Price of Immortality

Karen's dreams of eternal love and world renown talent have a high cost.

Paint clung to her fingers and face, coated the floor, all evidence of the greatest collection Karen ever created. The last canvas perched on the easel in front of her, the final chapter of the brutal tale of romance and damnation.

The brush hovered in the air but she couldn’t bring herself to finish the stroke. Once done, the deal would be over. Her name would live forever in the prayers of aspiring artists and collectors alike, but only her name would live.

A disembodied voice whispered, “Why are you stopping?”

“I’m not ready.” A glob of red paint splashed on the ground, splattering against her feet.

“This is everything you’ve ever wanted. Finish the story.”

“But it will be the end.”

“Yes. That is the bargain.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Ten years seemed like an eternity when she made the deal. The masterpieces she churned out would make the renaissance artists weep with awe, but somehow, now, it didn’t seem enough.

“What if I don’t finish it?”

“That’s on you. What’s your name again?”

The question punched her in the gut. Could she accept mediocrity? Dying with no one knowing her name? Caring for her work?

Such an end was not her future.

She leaned forward, adding the last strokes of deep crimson to the canvas. Pain clutched her chest, making her drop the paintbrush. She collapsed before the drying artwork.

Her greatest creation. The confession of a love so profound she couldn’t live without him. When Andy strayed, the final canvas showed his slaughter by love’s cruel blade. His blood stained her hands, both in real life and now immortalized in her work. She would be known for her artistic mastery and calculated brutality and would never witness the consequences of either.

Her heart had stopped.


This is an entry for

Daily Flash Fiction Challenge  (13+) Enter your story of 300 words or less. #896794 by Arakun the Twisted Raccoon