Dark Romanticism

IV

IV

I woke up with a headache and feeling hot as hell. Is the heater on? I open my eyes to go check the thermometer only to find I’m not in my bed. Last nights events came flooding back to me and I cursed. 

A groan came from behind me. Shit. 

Okay, Elsie. You can do this. Find your dress and boots and get the fuck out. 

I very carefully placed the white comforter aside and slide out of bed. Ben was still sleeping. Thank god. I grabbed my blue dress off the floor and slid it on along with my boots. 

After one more glance at Ben—very attractive, but less than average in bed—I found my way to the front door. 

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“Why are you here so early?” Janine asked as she put up an order. 

“Um, I stayed at a friends and thought I’d get out of their hair.” 

I was sitting on a barstool in the restaurant. It was nine in the morning on a Saturday and we were slow. Old people were doing their shopping, parents were sleeping in, and kids were working off their hang overs. The rush would come in an hour or so. 

“Got laid and snuck out?” she asked. 

I gasped and gaped at her. “Yeah, uh, thanks Janine.”

“Whatever, I’m not paying you for being early!” she shouted behind her shoulder and then went back into the kitchen. Yep, thanks Janine. 

“Investigators say there has been another murder.”

I look up at the cheap, twelve inch screen television that we have. I decided to tune it out—this is exactly the thing that I don’t need. Instead, I hop off the stool and start to clean the counter. 

“Hey, sweetie, can I get some pie? And maybe some sugar?” a very dirty, old guy asked me from across the diner. 

Disgusting. Well, at least I only work until two. 

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“Hey, Sara, let me put away my apron and then I’ll be out. Just take a table,” I waved at her and then went in the back. After I put away my work clothes and changed back into the blue dress I had on yesterday I walked back out to find Sara. 

“Hey, Elsie. ‘Sup?” 

“Nothing much. What about you?” I asked as I slid into the booth across from her. 

“Same old, same old. Just stressed,” she shrugged. 

“Yeah? Don’t be. So, you have any ideas for this project?” I looked down at the project form he had given us. 

You will select or be assigned an artist, artwork or art movement to work with. Your project may be to make your own version of the work, to work in the style of the artist, or to make something that connects with the formal, technical or conceptual aspects of the original. Your finished piece may end up looking so different form the original piece that without an artist statement, the view would not know that there was a connection. 

“Well, I was thinking we could do something dark. Like Study After Velázquez’s Portrait of Innocence X by Francis Bacon. Have you seen it before?”

“I think so. Kind of a jestering thing going?”

“Exactly! I think we could play on it and bring in a relevant topic. The new serial killer.” 

Visions of colors, line, and texture danced through my head as ideas came to mind. “I like the piece, but isn’t it already an adaptation itself?” I asked Sara.

“Well, yeah. Originally, Diego Velázquez painted it and it was just called Portrait of X. It was a painting of the pope,” she explained. 

“Right, so maybe we take the original work and mold it into something dark and modern, using the same techniques that Velázquez did. We can take aspects from Bacon’s work too and use that in our statement.”

She nodded excitedly, “Yes! You get it.” 

About three hours later we had gotten a good chunk of work done and were both exhausted and ready to go home. 

“So, we’ll both make some thumbnails?” 

“Yeah,” Sara agreed. 

“Okay, cool! Look, I have to go because I have to walk home,” I told her. 

“Oh, you do? I can give you a ride if you want. I mean, hell, speaking of the serial killer,” she giggled. 

“Really? That’d be amazing! My feet hurt so bad.”

“Well, then come on. Where do you live?” she asked as she stuck her belongings away in her bag. 

“Uh, 10th Ave and Union. It’s not to far.” 

“Okay, no problem.”

We walked out of the diner and to her car. “I’m pretty excited about this project. I think we can do a lot with it,” I tell her. 

“Yeah, me too! My mind’s racing with ideas.”

“Yep. Um, right here. Just take a left.”

“Oh, okay.” She stopped the car in front of the entrance to my apartments and I smile at her before getting out. 

“Thanks, Sara. I’ll see you in class on Tuesday.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that since we have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays that we could meet at the diner every Friday?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

“Cool, see you later Elsie.”

“Bye!” I shut her door and then make my way up to my apartment. 

After changing into my pajamas and turning on my tv—The Office was on—I decided to get some ice cream for myself. I have a carton of Rocky Road with my name on it. 

Just as I took my first bite of the delicious chocolaty cream, there was a knock at my door. “Shit. Who would be here now?” I whisper yelled to myself. 

I opened the door. Behind it laid two men—police officers. One was tall with long brown hair and stubble dusting his chin while the other was short and straight from the suburbs. 

“Ms. Elisianna George?” the tall one inquired.

“Um,  yeah? Is there a problem officers?” I asked. 

“Have you heard about the serial killer?”

Shit. “Um, yeah. What about him?”

“This morning a boy by the name of Ben Narmes was murdered,” the short one said and licked his lips before continuing, “Were you with him last night?”

“Ben?” Panic came flooding through me. “Um, yeah, but I had only just met him and—”

“Ms. George, I suggest you put some clothes on and come down to the station.”

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What do you guys think so far? I hope you like it :)

The painting that Sara and Elsie were talking about is to the right or up above depending on how you're reading this. 

FearTheDrumline