The Painters Death Wish

All I see is Red

"Harry."

She slid over to his side of the bed, propping her head onto the pillow. As she fidgeted, she sank into the comfy sheets. She found his arm and started to nuzzle against him. "Harry." She tried to wake him up with a light touch to receive a murmur in response. "I can't sleep." She bit his ear. He grunted and in a swift movement had her in his arms. "Harry," she protested. She tried to wiggle her way from his grasp, but she relented to his sweet delicacies, he kissed her neck in an attempt to stop her hassle.

When she conceded to his act; she laid restlessly but snugly. She eventually evaded his grip and found herself in the kitchen. The window above the sink was open and; she thought nothing of it as she closed it. Turning her back to the kitchen, she made her way to the stairs to only stop at the first step. A loud thud reverberated through the silent room. She did not hesitate to step down and investigate; turning back to the kitchen; she found that the closed window was now open. The latch was in a different angle. The area around the sink was now cold, colder than the rest of the room. She figured that the wind was the cause and so she opened it wide with doubt and shut it. She noticed that she did not switch the lights on downstairs, in that the light protruding from upstairs was enough for her little endeavour.

Back upstairs; she entered her studio. Switching on the light, the first object of suspicion was her chair that faced her instead of the desk. She walked towards it and found that her sketchpad that she put in her drawer was out for all to see. She picked it up, scanned through it and landed on the last page. Her eyebrow flinched, and her lips were dry as she saw that her sketch was complete, acrylic and all. She turned her chair and sat down, flicking a lock of hair behind her ear. She examined it underneath her lamp-light and touched the dents made by the paint. As she placed it down and tried to peg her thoughts, something fell onto the page.

She didn't have time to think; it was a still second that it happened. She looked up to be startled by an empty roof. Nothing was escaping the ceiling but when she looked back down, another droplet, then another, eventually it began to rain. It fell into her eyes and soaked her clothes. She ran to the door and entered the hallway with no stains; her clothes were dry and, her hands clean. She hesitated to step back into the room, looking back the light was now off. Nonetheless, she stepped into the room and tried to flick the lights back on. Power outage: she thought.

There was a flashlight in the desk drawer and; she figured to take it and make her way downstairs to retrieve her phone. Remembering that Harry was asleep and should be and so she'd deal with this on her own. She sat by the desk, flashlight in hand, viewing the page. Fresh liquid marked the contours. As she tilted to take a closer look, something touched her hair. As if the wind hand fingers and felt it brush through the back of her head. An eerie sensation of having her neck touched appeared. She turned back to face nothing but darkness. Looking back at the page; she sighed. Her breath caught in her throat as her face met the desk with a hard clash. It happened again and again until she fell from the seat. The plush carpet made a friend with the colour red, and the flashlight lit the encounter.

The image laid on the desk ever so placid. Watching, with hollowed eyes that now filled with something heinous; the image became a new form of disturbing art.