The Artist - The Big Bang

part 9

-Jeff Carr!!! What is the photographer for SportUnite doing on a artshow?

-What can I say. Jenna called in sick. It's an last minut thing.

-Well I hope you are prepared.

-What. Is this going to be big?

-Heeeeck no.. More like the most boring night of the week, including the trafic jam on PX1. I hope you had your coffee.

-Well, that sounds interesting. So what are you doing here?

-You know the piece I did about Jemma's comeback last week? This is the price.

-Oh, that was a great piece! But look at all these journalist and artpeople. Can he really be that boring?

-I had more fun the last time I went to the doctor. His work is soooo Beige. There is nothing new, nothing inspiring, nothing that says that he loves what he does. No passion, no life!

-That's harsh, even for you.

-Well just look aroung. You can find these sort's of paintings in offices, and waiting rooms. They have that sort of bland colors and motives that won't provoce any kind of thought or interest. Even if he claims he using "RobsonRed". Wich I don't believe.

-"RobsonRed"? like the serialkiller?

-Yeah. Robson painted with his victims blood. His passion was legendary before he became a crazed killer. But now adays some artist mix in their own blood in the pigment to get a richer colour, and it's called "RobsonRed".

-And this guys does that?

-I would guess thats just talk. I'll bet that he faints everytime they try to draw blood from him.

-So why are you here? And all these other hotshots.

-Because of who he is.

-What?

- Steve Adler.

-Adler. That name rings a bell.

-AnnaLize Adler was his mother.

-Wow! I've heard about her.

-She was the most talented artist on the rise the artworld has seen in ages. Beautiful and pure, with a depth and soul in her work you just can't learn. You either have it or you don't.

-She died?

-Yes. Only 24. Killed by a mugger. They found her body in the alley on South and Times. She was still protecting her son. They found him hidden underneath her body.

-So now he is using his mothers namne to create a name for himself?

-Well, I have to say no about that. And that is the only positive thing I will say about him. His love for his mother is real and he never uses her name to get attention. He never brings her up in interviewes, and when they ask about her (and they always do) he answers politely and change the subject. He really want to make it on his own merrits. Just too bad he isn't that good.

-Must be hard to live under that kind of shadow.

-Yes. An artist like her is once in a lifetime, if you are lucky.

-Hi and welcome to my artshow. I'm sorry for have keeping you waiting. I just had to put the finnising touches on the final piece.

I am Steve Adler and I wish you all welcome to 

"the inner beauty of man"

-Prepare to get bored to death, Mike whispered to Jeff.

They followed the Arist though a big double door.

When the last person entered, the doores closed behind them with a klicking sound, revealing it was locked.

But no one noticed.

No one heard the screams through the thick walls.

But the explosion was heard miles away.

-It is utter chaos, I haven't seen anything like this. What the HECK happened here?

-We are still trying to get an appreciation of the situation. This is and old factory so there is a big area to cover, and we still don't know if there is any more explosions to come.

-Do you atleast have an Idea what have caused all this?

-At this moment it's just to early to say, however, old factories might still have chemicals and other....

-Captain! We think we have found something.

-What is it.

-It seems like this whole place was rigged with explosives!

-Somebody call the bomb squad! And have all unnecessary personal evacuated until futher notice. What tha HECK is going on here?

-Captain!

-What now?

-We might have survivors.

-How many?

-2men and a dog.

-Who brings a dog to an artshow? Where they standing too close when the building blew up? Do they know what caused all this?

-They where inside of the building with the other. You can't believe what they are saying. It seems....

-Captain!

-What now? Do you have a number about victims? Are there more survivors?

-Well... we have a problem counting the bodys.

-What tha heck are you talking about. You have seen victims fom explosions before.

-Yes Captain, but we have the list of people that are suppose to be here.

-And?

-The numbers don't add up.

-How do you mean? Are there so many missing?

-Not just that.

-Then what?

-We haven't found everyone at this point.

-Well that is expected, so what is the problem?

-We have more bodies than people missing.

-What?

-There are many more bodies in there than it should be.

-Last minute invites?

-Well...

-Spit it out!

-They seem to have been dead before this.

-Isn't that a bit early to say?

-Well, some of the bodies have been mutulated.

-Who's artshow was this?!?

-Steve Adler.

-I've heard that name before.

-Well, his mother was AnnaLize Adler.

-No, just not that. Wait.. Steve Adler. Steve Adler. Oh F#(K.

-Who is he?

-He is the great grandsone of Art Robson.

-The serialkiller?

-Yeah, he was an artist too. "RobsonRed". Have you found Steve Adler?

-Not yet Captain.

-Inform the bombsquad when they get here. I'll inform the police.

-Yes Captain.

The end

*All names and streets and everything in this story is from my own imagination. Any similarity to real persons or events it purely coincidental.

#Horror #ShortStory #Twitter #TheArtist

  The Artist - The Garden of Eve  

part 8

It was an almot perfect Sunday afternoon.

The sun was shining and only a few clouds moved lazily along the clear blue sky.

He stepped outside and let his bare feet touch the grass.

He inhaled deepely.

His garden.

His beautiful garden.

He walked up to his pride and joy.

A rosebush filled with the most perfect and fragrant White roses.

He lovingly foundled the roses and let his toes dig deep in the rich soil.

-Hi Steve!

-Hi Fred.

-See you're enjoying the wonderful weather.

-Yeah, it has done wonders to my garden.

-Yeah! And your roses! But I have to say, they really look extra beautiful this summer.

-Yeah, I've been lucky.

-Absoultely, but as much time as you spend there I would say it takes a lot of hard work and love too.

Steve just smiled.

-I'm soo sorry we can't make it to your artshow by the way. We where really looking forward too it.

-Family comes first. Don't think about it. It will mostly be boring art critics and other from the art world there anyway.

-Yeah? But we always love your openings. Is it going to be big?

-Let's just say I've been busy this summer. He winked.

-Oh sounds wonderful. But we can always catch it later couldn't we?

-Well, most of my paintings will probably hang for a while but some of the instillations will most likely just be there for the opening. It's my lil surprise.

-Oh, sounds intriguing.

-Let's hope that the critics think so.

-You know they always love your work. Oh and about that. Emma just Loved the painting you gave her for her birthday.

-I'm so glad to hear that. I know how much she loves that puppy.

-Yeah it just broke her lil heart.

-You haven't heard anything at all?

-Sorry to say, no.

-I'm so sorry to hear that.

-Yeah, me too.

-How about I borrow the painting for my opening, and let everyone know that the pup is missing?

-Would you really do that for us?

-Ofcourse!

-Thank you so much. You really are a true friend. Well, I'm off. It was nice catching up. How about a BBQ the weekend after the big even?

-That sounds great IF I'm not working...

-Will talk later. Bye!

-Bye.

He took a deep breath.

Inhaling the special scent from his special rose.

Grabbing the stem. Almost wishing the thorns would rip thru his flesh so his blood could fertilize the soil and become a part of his garden.

His garden of Eve.

He smiled.

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

The Artist - Dinner by Candlelights

part 7

With a careful hand he adjusted the flowers and then he lit the candles.

It looked amazing!

The room had the right size for his vision and it looked both inviting and romantic at the same time.

It was an average sized long table set for one.

The placement gave it a sort of "the last supper" feeling.

It was a dinner for gluttony and looked the part.

The table was filled with all sorts of different sausages, swedish style meatballs, ribs, toung, heart, and infront of the guest of honor, on a bed of rice and wild muschrooms laid a finely sliced fillet.

All hand made ofcourse.

And so was the candles.

He knew that his culinary skills left much to desire but he had poored his heart in to this and that was the main thing.

You could see the love in the food.

He really wanted to use as much of the body as he possibly could.

Even the skin was saved and safely stored in the meat freezer in the back of the room.

The plates and silverware looked expensive even though he had to settle for some cheap options not to draw to much attention to himself.

Making the candles had taken some time to say the least, but it was amazing what you could find on the internet just by googling "home made candles".

He was glad that he had some fat saved from earlier works.

Just the making of the tallow was time consuming, but then to turn it into wax was more work than he had anticipated and for a moment he questioned himself if this really could be done.

But he did it.

He even had a few scented ones, allthough since this was a "dinner" he had to use scents that was not over powering and fitted the theme.

Just a hint of Rosemary and Thyme did the trick and he placed them around the room and not on the table itself. Those candles was unscented.

The skeleton sitting at the table was as white as he could have made him and actually wore a black silk tie for the occasion.

He had thought of doing the scene as a romantic dinner for two, but in a way this was more powerful.

A single individual in a meatfest for one.

And he himself was the dinner.

Some could call this an environmental piece.

Man eating himself, not realizing that in the process we are destroying ourselves.

or

by using everypart there is, it's less waste.

But for him this was just a laber of love.

His work was soon done.

This was his second to last piece.

He called this.... Dinner by Candlelights.

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

The Artist - Mother

part 6

He moved a candle.

It just didn't look right.

He stepped back, closed his eyes, opened them up and took another look.

And moved the candle again.

He stepped a bit futher back.

Closed his eyes, opened them up and took another look.

No.

This wasn't RIGHT!

He was getting frustrated.

This was the most important pice in his life!

EVERY SINGLE DETAIL had to be perfect!

He walked around.

Taking in the scean.

What was he missing?

What was wrong?

Why didn't this just GRAB him as much as it should?

He remember his mothers words

-If a piecs doesn't grab you, then why should it grab  your audience?

Yes why?

He wished she was here.

This piece was for her.

It came to him as an unbelievable coincidence.

A hospital had requested some artwork for a few of their waiting rooms.

He was actually sitting in one of them, trying to get a feeling for what would not only fit the space but also give the patients something to look at and maybe take away a bit of that nervous feeling you always get when you are waiting for the doctor.

The woman look absolutely nothing like his mother.

His mother had been kind, caring, loving, supportive and protecting like a mother should.

This sorry excuse for a "Woman" was nothing like that.

Her big belly wasn't a source of joy and love, rather an inconvenience, a problem to get rid of. He could hear some of the conversation since she was angry and upset and almost screaming.

There was apparently something wrong with her baby.

But instead of being destroyed of this horrible news she just screamed at them to fix the damn thing so she could sell it.

Who would want to buy a broken baby?

The nurse tried to explain that there was nothing they could do, that this was the unfortunate reality of her drug use and neglecting her pregnancy.

-ARE YOU REALLY BLAMING YOUR INCOMPITENCE ON ME!!!!!! I am loosing my BABY (she almost spat the word out) and you are blaming me?!?!?

-We have so many times tried to help you and tried to explain that  your living situation could damage the baby. We tried to help you.

-No you didn't, you are just trying to cover your ASS. Who would believe in a person like me? Isn't that what you are thinking? ISN'T IT?!?!?

-Madam, I'll assure you..

-WELL I'LL ASSURE YOU! I Have Someone listening to me. And we will sue this whole damn hopital!

And so the conversataion had continued.

He had to bit his lip so hard that he could taste his own blood.

How could she be so cold hearted?

How could she not care about the life that was or had been growing in her belly? Her protecive womb?

He was outraged.

After his meeting he went after the woman.

She was easy to find.

Sitting in the nearest bar sharing her "tragic" story to anyone that would listen and by her a drink.

He waited until she came out.

He walked around the room.

Still couldn't get his fingers on what was missing.

The woman sat on the floor, her back leaning on a headboard of carved wood. It was lovingly decorated with all sorts of flowers and sleeping animals.

Here legs was spread out and her belly was cut open and spread out like it was made from papier-maché.

First he wanted to have a single candle burning inside but that was just not enough room to make that look as inviting as he wanted, so he settled for a led Lightloop.

He wanted it to looks as the womb was still a safe haven for the child to crawl back into for safety and love.

He scoffed.

Love and safety from this horrible woman?

He had to remind himself that this wasn't about her, this was about his own mother and the baby.

They deserved his love and attention.

He had carefully wrapped the baby in the finest linnen he could find.

He rested (yes, it was a boy) on a bed of roses from his own garden.

First he wanted to have the umbilical cord still attatched but that hadn't worked as well as he would like so instead he had replaced it with a chain made of silver.

He adjusted the chain just so.

And now it was finnished.

He remembered his mothers dying words.

-Remember I'll always Love you. You will always be my finest work of art.

And then she smiled as she died, still protecting him with her body.

He would call this..... Mother

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

The Artist - Man's  Best Friend

part 5

This was one of his favorite pieces.

Not only as a concept but that the audience was going to interract and therefore become a part of the Art itself.

HOW they interracted with the piece would have an direct effect how the end result play out.

The rome itself was sort of an Labyrinth, with an assortment of different challenges before they would reach the Grand Finale.

This would actully be the second to last piece in his vernissage.

There was a soft whining next to his leg.

-Shhhhh little one. He gently stroked the little thing.

It was shivering slightly.

-Shhhhh, It won't be that long. If everything goes smothly you will be home with your family before you know it.

He sat for a while stroking the small thing.

Talking to it.

Assuring it that all would be fine.

But he knew.

When faced with a danger for their own safety, people showed their inner ugliness.

All it wanted is affection.

All they want is to be entertained.

They went into the Labyrinth, passing a arrangemet of mirrors on the way.

He wanted the audience to have to face themselves with every decision they had to make.

And then they had arrived in the middle of the Labyringh, he opened a small door letting it into the cage.

Here it would have all it needed up to the Big Event.

-You will be safe here, he said. And I will visit you as much as I can.

It wimpered some more.

-Shhhh litte one.

He was calling this......Man's Best Friend

But he wondered.

Was man going to fail his friend?

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

The Artist - Red, White and Blue

part 4

This piece was one of his more difficult to exicute.

The required elements hadn't been that easy to come by and for a minute he even concidered to take it off the list of ideas he had in his head.

And to be honest this wasn't really his cup of tea.

He never concidered himself to be a patriot or an activist.

He was just an Artist plain and simple, and when an Artist get that special feeling they should always run with that.

His mother told him that sooo many times when he was a kid.

-Look Darling, people might not always get your work, and you know what? That is OK. When you get that special feeling about a project or a painting or what you choose to do, go with that feeling.

That is your Muse talking to you, and you should always listen to her. Even if in the end the finnished result isn't what you wanted, you will always look back on it as a learning experience. Because sometimes we learn more from our misstakes than our most successful work.

His mother was a wonderful teacher and the most perfect person he had ever met in his life.

Every advise she had ever given him in her short life he had hidden in his heart.

And everytime he needed her, she was there.

She was his muse.

And that is why he did this.

Is wasn't perfect, not in anyway.

But the impact of his work, and the meaning of it was plain.

But getting the right components had been a struggle indeed.

Especially the last part.

But his mother always said he had a way with words.

The chairs was sitting in a sort of circle, with huge lumps of skin in a pile in the middle.

The bodys on the chairs looked naked and vulnerable. They appeared to be looking at each other.

This was how we all really looked on the inside.

We where all equal beneath the skin.

He called this....

Red, White and Blue

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

  The Artist - Lightning  

part 3

He was panting from all the heavy lifting but everything seemed to be in order.

He dried the sweat from his forhead with a cloth that he then placed in plastic bag that was waiting in his pocket.

No reason for him to spreading around his DNA all over the place.

He looked, touched some of the equipment with a loving hand and slightly moved others.

Ever since he was a kid he'd wanted to creat something like this.

He had to admit that it was not as authentic as he wanted it to be, but he never wanted to plagiat, but he wanted it to be apparent where he got the inspiration.

There where so many movies but the one from 1931 was his favorite by far.

Everything was in order.

This was only a test to see that everything worked.

The read body had to wait. He would only get one chance and he wasn't about to get sloppy now.

He pushed the first button and the room went completely dark.

He slowed his breathing and counted to 5.

Then he pusched the second button.

The room was filled with all sorts of electric buzzing sounds, flashing buttons and a strobe light that would simulate lightning. He even got the sounds of thunder to really get the ambience just right.

He so wished he could had used real thunder.

To really feel like God, both over Death and Nature.

And then a bright Flash and the "body" on the metallic hostpital gurney started twitching.

Mimicking the line in the movie he yelled as high as he could.

-It's Alive!!!!!!!

He was going to call this.

Lightning!

Now it was time to put the real body in place.

Or bodies really.

Time to get to work.

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story

    The Artist - Snow   

part 2

This place was just perfect!

Sometimes things just fall in your lap and you have to run with it.

It hadn't been easy to put this together but now looking at it, it was worth the pain and cuts.

He was ready.

And then he pressed the start button.

And the wood chipper machaine started to chew threw the iceblocks he fed it with.

It almost looked like snow.

Even more perfect than he imagined.

When the machaine reached the flesh and bone it started to make a heavy sound but it kept on chewing away.

Making the snow red.

This was a master piece!

He just wished he could acually could build a snow man, but how much he tried, the wood chipper just didn't get the texture right.

But the snow lanterns he made hade turned out beautiful.

He was so happy he decided to save the head and the heart.

Poetic.

The machaine kept on chewing.

He would call this installation

Snow

#HorrorStory #Twitter #Story