I Write to you now, accused of a crime so Maniacal that I could never commit .But you see, I have an acute sense of sight, and I see many a thing that no one else can.
I have always been an artist, my father, a highly esteemed sculptor, had introduced me to art when I was a young lad. But I never bothered with it until I saw an old man painting in the park.”Papa, what is that man doing?” I had asked him,”Ah, that man is painting Gestapo, why don’t you ask if you can join him?” I ran over to this old man and asked him if I could join him, thus beginning my life as a painter.
I had always loved painting, but intrigued me the most was the vibrant colors of the paint, The Canary yellow’s, the Sky blues, and especially, The Blood red…Many of my greatest masterpieces used the Peculiar color. But I always seemed to loathe that color immensely, it was bright enough to distract from the blue, and dark enough to dim the yellow. Yet, every time I would toss it away, it would end up in my paintings.
As with any man, I longed for a companion, and through this I met Elizabeth, although she was not Italian as was I, I fell madly in love with her, and ended up asking for her hand in Marriage. But hard times soon followed, and my dear Elizabeth died during the winter. Heartbroken, I began to take up the vile thing that was whiskey. As my drinking worsened, my paintings began to show my hatred. Many a time I would be asked what the painting meant, and I would angrily scream,” Piss off, you bloody Bugger!!” But, Strangely enough, I was still able to make a living off of my paintings, after many years of torment, I finally moved out of the home where my only love died. And found a large estate that was for sale for a strangely low price.
After exploring it more, I found a room covered in the vile red paint, I hired a man to have it removed immediately .for two weeks the man toiled. But his speed was that of a tortoise!! I restrained the man’s slowness. But one night, I saw him dallying; I felt a rage which I had never had in my life.” why are you not working, you fool!!” I roared. The man looked up and kindly said,”I am eating my supper, I will continue when I am finished. I finally released the restraint that I had mustered; I picked up a scraper from his tool box and slashed at his throat. He grabbed at his throat and looked in surprised as he sunk to the floor, dead. I laughed at the hysterics that fueled my rage. I looked down at the corpse and began to finish the job. I didn’t bother to clean the spatter of blood that was on the wall, I took out that section and shoved him inside. I neatly tacked down the panel and hung up my prized painting over the blood spatter.
Many a day later, the bobby came by to investigate the disappearance of the young man now hidden in the wall. I graciously invited them in and let them search. I led them into the room the dead man now accompanied and showed them my prized painting. I stared at it with them when, I noticed a red spot in the center of the painting. As I looked closer, the dot grew into a smudge, I looked over to the men and they were staring at the painting too, they had to see that smudge!! The bobby was mocking me!! I festered over their extreme calm, and begun to shake. I couldn’t take their calm anymore!”Charlatans, He is here, hidden right before your very eyes” I yelped. I grabbed the scraper I killed the man with and tore down the walls.
A gothic tale I wrote up one time……