Masterpiece

He slept on the soft carpet, passed out from too much alcohol, whose fragrance littered the room. He slowly rocked back and forth in the dark room, only illuminated by city lights that filtered in between the drawn curtain's fibers. Sleeping heavily, I silently placed a bin over him. It was translucent, with a misty-fog look to it. Once placed over him, he was only a blob of skin and clothes. The bottom, though, where I stood, was clear as day. It was around midnight when the perfect idea had stuck. My one masterpiece... this one would work.

I cut a small hole in the bin's top, where I continued to stand. It was in a corner, so that he wouldn't feel anything for a while. Sound asleep I started to pour the rich, noir liquid into the bin. It soaked into the carpet below, but started rising fast. It seeped into the woven fibers of his clothes, staining each layer forever. Perfection.

As it slowly devoured his hands, he shifted slightly, his left hand hit the side of the bin, making a harsh banging sound. My heart skipped a beat, he couldn't wake- not yet- just a bit longer. Thankfully for me, he ignored it and continued to sleep. The thick liquid now surrounded his feet, then ears; he slept on. It then slowly reached his nose. The tickling sensation of it woke him. He looked around in complete terror and disorientation. He tried to get up, but failed. My mass on the bin's top was too great with the substance surrounding for him to make an escape. 

His horror filled eyes met mine, my face presenting a sinister smile. He craned his neck up, in search of oxygen- it was running out. Just a short time and none would be left inside the container, nor his lungs- full suffocation. He looked at me again with pleading eyes, face plastered against the top of the bin, neck straining. My devilish grin and laugh should have sent him straight to hell right then and there. Yet, since that didn't happen and I still needed to complete my artwork, I continued pouring. As the liquid was only centimetres from the top, he gasped for his last bit of air and his eyes slowly shut. What a pity, he had such pretty eyes. He sunk down into the deathly tar. As he choked, silently begging and longing for air, bubbles slowly rising and popping at the top of the container. I had the best seat- the front row seat- watching like a god above- I was a god. How long would he suffer? Ten seconds? Twenty? Hopefully longer than thirty. Such a pity this show can't last forever. 

When the bubbles stopped coming up and popping like a potion in a cauldron and the bin stopped shaking from his thrashing motions, I knew my masterpiece was done. I smiled, "Death my friend, we've done it again."

I stepped off of the bin, then slowly lifted it. As the black liquid oozed out, his limp body swayed with it. His arm and legs moved around- he looked like he was dancing. I couldn't help but to chuckle. His body lay there tattooed with black. Lost of life, dead. Perfect. My masterpiece. 

Absolutely perfect. 

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[Edited; Apologies For My Mistakes]  550

So..... yeah...... What'd you think? 

Fun Fact: I actually wrote this story when I was in 7th grade and I recently remembered it and was wondering like, would anyone like it if I posted it? 

So, I posted it. Lol. And I know my other short story, Darkness, isn't that popular but, I wanted to see how well this one would do.

If you've read both: Darkness and now Masterpiece, which one do you like better? 

I hope you guys liked it, I had a lot of fun writing it back in Middle School. 

Questions about the story? 

Constructive criticism is always welcome!