I Write Fanfiction

The Nocturnal House of Curious Dreams (Part 6)

It was a beautiful aroma.. The scent of flowers lingered in the room.. It was a calm and relaxing scene with the
brilliance of the piano playing out..

It was an art room of sorts...

The painter smiled and gave a nod to the fair pianist as her hands glided across the keys... She smiled back and
flipped her hair as she transitioned into the crescendo of her performance..

The painter delighted belowed out his laughter heartily as the inspiration made him feel alive.. The very culmination
of passionate souls in a single place filled him with a joy most unspeakable..

He dipped his brush multiple times in the color he needed habitually.. And continued painting the collection of
naked bodies before him, entwined in their self pleasuring orgy..

There was a key pause in the strokes of his brush... A hand had clasped itself upon his shoulder.. He turned his body
to see the mask of a brooding penguin lingering over him...

Another rush of inspiration hit him as the cold beady eyes of the mans mask stared down at him.. Something
yearned to crawl out of his belly, to wrap itself around this ominous mask facing him... The painter knew what his
next work must consist of.. An overjoyous and delighted sense of mirth spread across his face!

Before he could stand and exuberantly pronounce his new muse to the world the voice of the one wearing the
mask spoke...

"A terrific piece.. Perhaps I could show you how to make one even better..."

There was something cold and terrifying in that voice.. Yet altogether wonderful... The master painter felt suddenly
insignificant, and small.. As if the heights he had amassed were simply small and trivial stones before this being
when it came to the essence of art...

The crescendo of the music had dipped.. And the artist stood up from his chair.... The one in the mask instinctively
took the brush and began marking his own epitaph onto the scene displayed before him..

He spoke to the man who had previously been painting in a hushed whisper... "What you long for, is to not paint
what is in front of you... But rather.." His strokes were flurried and messy.. But to the painter a complete
symbolance of beauty.. "The message.. Of what should have been in front of you the whole time.."

The painter marveled as the man stood up and bowed before parting... The sound of heavy doors unlatching and
creaking as they swung open and closed filled the still air... The painter on his knees weeping as what he saw to be
a complete masterpiece before him..

Every once live body in the painting.. Now had a skull shaped rose.. Growing out of their back.

And it was beautiful.