Cadmium Red – Lily Shan
Editor's Note: This was a submission for the 2016 Horror Fiction Writing Contest. Contains graphic content.
my tears intermingle
with the blood on the ground.
her beauty is understated,
eyelashes that sweep
the undersides of her closed eyes.
i close my eyes and breathe the
smell of spoiled iron in her hair
there are stains on her arms,
little freckles and spots of scarlet and some
bruising too.
But no matter, it was necessary
a little perfection must be sacrificed for the
masterpiece to be complete.
my
eyes blur
the canvas is
set
the easel is
ready
i dig
the knife a bit more into her chest
and the blood bubbles up
higher
red taints the bristles of the brush,
stains the white canvas
i add some cerulean blue
for her frightened eyes
some
violet
for the perfect shade of her bruises
some
zinc white
for her pale skin,
i make
the shape of her delicate
soul,
immortalize her body,
into my story.
the paint dries with a deeper hue–
a darker, dirtied version of her skin, her eyes, her hair
filthy – like the dirty whore I know she is.
beauty like hers can only come from a slut
like the ones daddy used to bring home to dinner
and more.
symbolism is everything for the
True Artist.
but wait, there’s more.
the final installment in this two part masterpiece is yet to come
tomorrow morning, i’ll cut her up,
savor the smell of burning flesh,
arrange her entrails into the perfect sculpture with the
curve of her intestines and the shine of her
heart
tomorrow morning, i’ll hang the finished piece above the fireplace,
a trophy for all to admire
her bones will sleep with me for eternity,
her beauty will keep me alive
until the next one
my darlings.
my tears intermingle
with the blood on the ground.
her beauty is understated,
eyelashes that sweep
the undersides of her closed eyes.
i close my eyes and breathe the
smell of spoiled iron in her hair
there are stains on her arms,
little freckles and spots of scarlet and some
bruising too.
But no matter, it was necessary
a little perfection must be sacrificed for the
masterpiece to be complete.
my
eyes blur
the canvas is
set
the easel is
ready
i dig
the knife a bit more into her chest
and the blood bubbles up
higher
red taints the bristles of the brush,
stains the white canvas
i add some cerulean blue
for her frightened eyes
some
violet
for the perfect shade of her bruises
some
zinc white
for her pale skin,
i make
the shape of her delicate
soul,
immortalize her body,
into my story.
the paint dries with a deeper hue–
a darker, dirtied version of her skin, her eyes, her hair
filthy – like the dirty whore I know she is.
beauty like hers can only come from a slut
like the ones daddy used to bring home to dinner
and more.
symbolism is everything for the
True Artist.
but wait, there’s more.
the final installment in this two part masterpiece is yet to come
tomorrow morning, i’ll cut her up,
savor the smell of burning flesh,
arrange her entrails into the perfect sculpture with the
curve of her intestines and the shine of her
heart
tomorrow morning, i’ll hang the finished piece above the fireplace,
a trophy for all to admire
her bones will sleep with me for eternity,
her beauty will keep me alive
until the next one
my darlings.