Guess who is back from the dead? Me. I am. So, I am gonna skip the intro and jump right into the story. Yes, I am writing a story. Also for context, I am linking a video about Narcissus here.
GENRE: Angst
WORD COUNT: 1774
WARNINGS: gore, blood
'Hate' is a strong word. While scrolling through social media Adriana however felt only hate. She hated how all the models these days resembled nothing more than skeletons, she hated how all of them had every single facial feature in common; puffy lips, long legs, no flesh, and really really tanned skin. She hated how she was so motivated to create new art but could not find inspiration anywhere. Yes, indeed 'hate' is a strong word. Lazily, she opened her e-mail hoping to find something there. Her inbox was filled with people who either wanted to buy her art or be her art.
One rule Adriana strictly followed was that never ever draw celebrities. Don't associate with them and don't draw them. Keep your art raw. Real. Draw ordinary people, but unfortunately due to accession of Instagram models, everybody looked fake, robbed of all human features. plastic mannequins at best.
A particular name caught her eye while scrolling past her inbox. Ambros Grinaldi. The Ambros Grinaldi. The temperamental, egotistical, rude and very, very successful Ambros Grinaldi. It was with great enthusiasm that Adriana found herself opening the email.
It did not have much information, all it said was that he wanted a portrait of himself on 7 by 15 inch canvas in oil. There was a number given at the end of the e-mail. Adriana nervously dialed the number.
"May I p-please speak to Mr. Grinaldi? This is Adriana Carlton." She couldn't believe the words that left her mouth. Was she seriously calling Ambros Grinaldi?
"This is him." A deep, baritone voice replied from the other end of the line.
"O-oh right, I am calling to ask you about your enquiry regarding the portrait."
" You could have just replied on the email, but since you have called, would you like to join me for dinner to discuss the details of this project?"
Adriana choked on her saliva. Dinner. Ambros Grinaldi. Talk. The words seemed too unreal, she tried to hide all of her enthusiasm and sound as professional as she could and replied with a simple 'yes'
"At eight. I will send a car at your studio." He did not wait for her reply as he disconnected the call.
Ambros Grinaldi was a man of his word. At 8 p.m. sharp there was a car waiting outside the studio. Adriana wore her best dress and the most expensive pair of shoes that she owned but still looked like a mere peasant against the car. When the driver opened the door for her, it felt almost criminal to sit in the leather seat. Everything was far to tasteful for her laced dress and wedged shoes to touch. It was a thirty five minute drive from her studio to Ambros Grinaldi's vacation home.
Adriana's footsteps echoed across the marbled hallways as she made her way towards the dining room. She had seen a lot of tasteful decor in her life but nothing compared to the cadaverous marble halls and the ashen curtains that decorated every Parisian window. The home looked more like a palace, cold and intimidating, nothing more than a display of wealth and power.
"Mr. Grinaldi?" she squeaked as she poked her head through the doors of the dining hall.
"Please, call me Ambros." He said as he stood up to receive his guest. Adriana smiled as she seated herself across from him.
She was too awe-stricken to start a conversation. She marvelled at the marble dinner table that was covered with a black dining cloth. The table was perfectly laid with a white, ceramic plate and black silverware not because it oxidized but because it was supposed to be so.
"I take it that you are a fan of monochrome?" Adriana mused as she ran her hand over the fabric of the dining cloth. It felt smooth between her fingers, almost as if it were not cloth at all but rather a liquid.
" Yes, I am indeed," Ambros chuckled. He poured to glasses of wine. He passed one to Adriana.
"Follow me," He said as he led her through multiple sets of doors and winding staircases. He came to a standstill in front of two intricately carved doors. He pushed open the doors as he led Adriana in to the room.
The sight was breathtaking. Unlike the other rooms this one was full of colours and vibrancy.
"As you can tell, I am a patron of arts..." Ambros' voice trailed off.
"This entire room is a collection of paintings of me, there are a few sculptures and statues, but do you want to know what my most prized possession is?" Ambros asked.
Adriana looked at him with cat like curiosity in her eyes. The room was made of marble, like everything else. There were multiple paintings of Ambros hanging on the walls, the floor was decorated with multiple sculptures of him. There however was an empty space on the wall, a space that a canvas of certain dimensions could fill, the same specific dimensions that Ambros wanted Adriana to paint.
"Look, this is a symphony someone wrote for me. From the start till the end, this piece of music has been composed for me." Ambros said as he held sheet music in front of Adriana.
"I am sure it sounds wonderful, but unfortunately, I cannot read music." She said apologetically.
"Very well, I will play it for you." He said as he walked towards a polished vinyl record player that sat in the corner of the room. In a matter of seconds the room was filled with the melody of the symphony. It started with the melancholic tune of a cello to be later joined by the shrill pitch of a violin which complimented a soft piano playing in the background. The song started off as slow, one full of longing and desire and then took a sharp turn towards a maddening chaos of instruments that could portray only rage, the song then slowed down to an unsettling calm, with only the piano playing. It sounded like lost hope, 'succumbing to your demons' Adriana described it in her mind. The last part of the song took an unexpected turn towards an upbeat solo of the violin and a sudden ending played by the cello. Adriana hadn't realized but she had tears in her eyes and goosebumps on her hands by the end of it.
"I-It is truly a masterpiece." she said, still trying to bring herself back to reality.
"Speaking of masterpieces, I want you to paint me one. I will want it hanging there." Ambros said, pointing at the blank space on the wall.
Adriana nodded. "Send me some reference photos and I will get working on it immediately."
"No. That is where you are wrong. If you see carefully all the art here is what the artist perceives me as, you will have to get to know me and then draw me from imagination." Ambros replied.
Adriana nodded and followed him out of the room towards the dining hall. She thanked him for the meal and headed home.
After that day, dinner became a regular custom. Every night at eight, a car would wait outside her house, it was the same 35 minute drive and the house seemed as intimidating as it did the first time, every night.
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, in the same way small talk turned into exchange of opinions which then turned into confessions of love and sweet nothings.
Adriana worked on her masterpiece the entire time. One day it was finally ready. She picked up the canvas and took it with her to dinner. She had stopped bothering about wearing rich clothing, sometimes even wearing her art smock to dinner, today was one of those days.
She greeted Ambros with a hug. "I finally finished it." She said.
"You did?"
Adriana nodded with excitement. She dragged him to his artroom and revealed the painting to him. It was the best she had ever made. Ambros was depicted no less than a god. She had painted all of his features perfectly, from his chiseled jaw to his wispy black hair. He had pale skin and she used this to her advantage to add highlights to his well defined cheekbones and eyelids, concentrating blood there to give an overall rosy tint to his complexion. His eyes seemed almost unreal, with the deepest shade of blue and the lightest in the same iris. Her depiction of Ambros was that of Apollo, the Greek god of art.
"It is beautiful" Ambros breathed out. Adriana beamed up at him.
He kept admiring the painting and stood still. After a few minutes he began to walk towards a door that she did not know existed in the room.
"It would be a shame, if say you were to create something of equal magnificence or something better," He mused as he led her into the room.
The room reeked of the metallic smell of blood. Adriana brought her hand up to cover her nose and asked "Ambros, what room is this?"
The only reply she got was the sound of the click of the lock of the door. An unsettling sensation started to build in her stomach as the smell of blood became even more intoxicating as the minutes passed by. Ambros roughly grabbed her wrists and dragged her to table. The wood was covered with blood stains, the polish had worn off a long time ago, and the table top had scars from the multiple times a knife had been slammed on it's counter.
Ambros pulled out a butcher's knife from the drawer of the table.
"Ambros, what are you doing?!" Adriana shrieked.
He held her wrists on the table as he rubbed the blade of the knife across his white jacket. There was a strange madness behind his eyes but it was enough to answer Adriana's question. Suddenly all the paintings in his room made sense. The one with demons chasing him, demons consuming him and the one in which he was a demon himself.
"I am ensuring that my painting was the only masterpiece that you made." He said as he raised his knife.
"Ambros, don't! Please don't!" Adriana begged with tears in her eyes and fear in her heart.
"You said you loved me!" She screamed.
"True, but I love myself more." Ambros said as the knife slammed down on the table with a sickening thud, cutting away every fibre of bone, flesh and cartilage along with it and leaving a fresh scar on the table amongst the many that littered it's surface.
