The Possessed Model & The Artist
“Will I live long enough to matter?”
“Huh?”
She was crying but it wasn’t bothering the process so I left her alone and continued sketching. After a long pause, I finally said something.
“For the next few hours you’re the only one that exists, at least, to me.”
To be honest, I took her as another one of those goth kids who kept saying they’re going to kill themselves, or those who kept thinking they’re 20 and they’re going to die soon. Eager to get any shred of attention they could.
But she had the saddest eyes I’ve seen so far.
“わたしにも何か 残せるといいな, わたしが生きた, 命の証を…” She murmured softly. (T/N:It’ll be great if I could leave something, a proof that I’ve lived…)
“Don’t move so much,” I complained. She had moved off the bed where she posed earlier. “And isn’t that a song?”
When I looked up from my color palette she was looming in front of me, her eyes were sharp, dark raven hair flowing from the crown of her head. That’s odd- because she had grayish chestnut…a few…seconds ago…
Her hand reached around my neck but I dodged, moving back.
“What are you doing?! And why did your hair turn black?”
“I thought you’d understand. Since…you nearly died.”
Her hands swiped towards me again, nails long enough to slice.
“Stay away!” I blocked with the only thing within reach, the support for the painting frame.
“I don’t have a long time. Just like you. That’s why I -” She jerked back and her hair floated, changing back to grey, then to chestnut brown. Wait, this isn’t a high budget CGI horror film.
“Haaa!”She slumped to the ground. “I’m really sorry. I get possessed very often.”
“Possession?”
“Yeah, my eyes narrows and my hair turns black.”
I eyed her, waiting for some sort of camera crew to appear or someone telling me it was just a prank but nobody did.
“Get out of my studio.” I kicked her out.
Finishing up her portrait, I heard scuffling from the corridor. I’ll have to find someone else to model for my paintings now.
Someone knocked at the door. She must’ve stayed even after I threw her out.
“Please, I’ll try my best to drive the spirits out!”
I sighed and felt troubles ahead. Obviously the right answer is to turn her away, while I had yet to have any sort of attachment towards her.
I turned away from the door and went back to the easel. Eying the half-drawn image, I picked it up and threw it into a pile of rejects.
I’ll have to find a new model.
Someone who could be the one to inspire me to draw the works of legendary artists. My Mona Lisa.
Author’s Note:
/throws salt, throws salt/
Spent last night sketching till it was really late.This was the product: https://miiverse.nintendo.net/posts/AYMHAAADAAB2V0fxEgGNjg I’m trying to polish it so that it’s up to a certain publishable standard.
24 June 2017: I’ve updated the ending because I think it’s unrealistic for the artist to accept her so quickly. Developed the story a little further in my brains.
Dust to Rust 