⚠️Warning⚠️ Contains mild gore
(This was previously in a story of its own but I decided to move it here)
Every human being has the capacity to create, to captivate audiences with their self-expression. Many never heeding the call of art. Was it skill? Was it lack of confidence? Or did the fear of rejection and exposure cripple many when faced with stellar pieces? Each new piece brought fear, this was common for any artist to experience. Beau was addicted to the feeling. The adrenaline, the waterfall of feelings that came as he worked. Simply thinking of the response to his art was exhilarating.This fear motivated Beau to create his art, the confidence pouring from his body.
Inspiration struck randomly. Several days would pass without a spark, sometimes even weeks, months without an inkling of inspiration. Yet, when the time finally arrived, he poured his soul into each movement, each stroke.
He had first laid eyes upon his muse in a coffee shop. The building was small and quiet, a place that he often passed time, searching his thoughts for his next piece. His muse was beautiful. The way her raven curls contrasted against her pale skin. Her baby blue eyes reflected the glistening sun in such a way that made him melt. Instantly, ideas flooded his mind captivating his thoughts as they engrossed themselves in creating his next masterpiece.
It didn’t take long before his thoughts sprung into action. Wandering to where the woman sat, Beau felt his heart flutter in excitement. Her gaze wandered to his figure, a polite smile falling on her features. She was even more beautiful up close.
The reaction was always the same. A humble expression replaced the smile, a gentle laugh echoing in his ears. “I am not fit to be a model.”
Why did they always look down on themselves? Whether it be women or men, the reaction was always the same. Although, Beau understood. It was his job to turn them into someone confident, to see the beauty that they hold. Their potential.
As he pressed her further, it was obvious his words had an effect on her. Wonderful!
The two chatted and exchanged stories. Hannah was her name, a student at a nearby university. The coincidence that she studied in art was a happy moment the two shared. A connection was created, a small string connecting their lives together. Beau knew he needed her to become his muse, his model. Flurries of ideas had never ceased in his brain, only increasing in strength the more he learned about her. An only daughter of two parents who strived to give her the sky and moon. The overflowing gratitude poured from her heart struck him deep within. She was pure, filled with love and blessed with not only beauty but a cherished life.
“You have so much potential, please let me show you what you can be.” Beau pleaded.
Hannah hesitated, her gaze wandering across the empty cups in front of them. The tip of her finger traced the edge, a thoughtful hum leaving her lips. Silence took over them, both parties focused on the proposition at hand.
Beau was well aware that if he pressured her anymore it was likely that she would be scared off. If she disagreed, Beau was unsure of what he would do. The urge to create was an itch that could not be scratched. If she declined, he would be tortured by the rejection. Plagued by the concepts that could never be created.
A smile broke out on his lips as she finally agreed. Yes! His body shuddered in excitement as he could not wait to start his next piece. The sun bounced nicely from her porcelain skin, the aquamarine tones in her eyes shining even brighter as she returned his smile. The two exchanged contact information, their conversation carrying on to the ideas he had. Beau was never one to share his ideas with his muses, he loved seeing their surprised faces by the time he was finished. The less that they knew, the better.
As days passed, Beau found himself infatuated with his ideas. Various sketches scattered the room, each one better than the last. His heart fluttered with excitement as their meetup day inched closer and closer. The tips of his fingers were itching to start, itching to create the ideas he had in his mind. They plagued him day and night, only creating more anticipation for the beautiful day.
Hannah continuously messaged him, sharing her own excitement for the project. It was obvious she was also nervous about their planned day, but Beau had his ways to calm any concerns that she had.
When the day finally arrived, his palms were sweaty as his own nerves began to show. The same fear that motivated him piece by piece tugged at his heart. It whispered words of discouragement but he would not listen. Those whispers would be proved wrong. Beau and Hannah shared their greetings, her door widening, allowing him to bring in the tools he prepared.
“You have such a beautiful space,” he complimented, his eyes taking in the quaint studio apartment. Old brick was exposed throughout the space creating a comfortable feeling. The vintage windows were clouded from years of wear but still allowed copious amounts of sunlight. Scattered lit candles provided a pleasant aroma, sparking the artistic desires within his soul.
The atmosphere between the two was lighthearted, calm as they laughed and conversed about trivial things. “Should we start?” Hannah inquired, her beauty shining brighter than before.
Beau only nodded, he could not contain his excitement anymore. The day he had dreamed of for the last week was finally in his grasp. All the ideas he had for his model came flooding to the front of his mind, crowding over one another. Which one should he go with? Which one would inspire confidence not only in his muse but the public as well?
Time was lost to space as he worked. Beads of sweat forming on his skin as all his attention was focused on making his beautiful piece.
The clothing he wore were now stained, the monochromatic color staining his jeans and top. Stained clothing is something most despise, yet Beau was different. To him, the stains showed how hard he worked, how much effort he poured into his pieces.
The sun vanished from the windows, signifying that the daylight was now limited. Many hours had passed since Beau began his project and within a day he was finished.
Pride overtook his body as he gazed in awe at his work. It was marvelous! Beautiful! Jitters ran through his body as he thought about the reception of his piece. His muse was now more beautiful than before, captured in a timless piece.
The woman was peaceful, her eyes closed in slumber. Her raven locks framed her features perfectly, flowing as a dark river down her body. The contortion of her body was expressive, demonstrating just how twisted anyone could be. Goosebumps shook his body.
Beau was in love.
Joyous hums left his lips as he began the clean up process. The ecstatic feeling on grew with each passong moments. A wet rag removed most of the dark crimson substance from his hands and arms. The spare change of clothing he brought laid neatly on the opposite side of the room, untouched from the mess he created.
A smell he was all to familiar with wafted over the room, overtaking the previous aroma in the small studio. The smell of freight, desperation, and pleas from the heart. The smell of death and blood. Oh the joy it gave him. It was nostalgic, reminding him the beginning of his artistic expression.
Humans always created the best canvases.
Water washed away the bodily fluid from his tools, the pristine white sink stained a soft pink color. His hums never ceased as he changed his clothing, throwing the spoiled ones into the duffle bag filled with various tools. Rolling his shoulders, Beau stretched his body as aches made themselves know throughout his body. Working many hours with no break made his muscles tense and cramped. As he massaged the back of his neck, Beau took one last look at his work of art, the smile never leaving his features.
Red made everything beautiful.
Grateful words fell on dead ears as Beau was glad to have had the opportunity to express himself once again. There was no need for pictures to remember his piece by, the male was well aware of the eternal existence his piece would earn.
Having slung the duffle bag over his shoulders, his fingers curled around the doorknob, "It was a pleasure working with you, Hannah." The words held their sinister meaning as Beau exited the small studio. Purposely leaving the door open for his work to be seen, he merrily made his way towards the exit.
A small bounce in his step occurred as he reached the doors leading to the outside. A shriek echoed from the floor he had just left, knowing well that his piece had been discovered. Oh the beauty of the reactions. It was something he lived for, what he thrived for. Nothing could triumph the feeling that rose in his chest.
Exiting the building as rushing bodies passed him, all of them eager to witness his masterpiece, Beau was now in search for his next inspiration.
As many say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
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