The Blackening (218 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 1.33 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Crystle (View user info) at 2006-09-25 11:42:22 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Marjie glanced out the window. She loved the view; it made even the mundane chore of washing the dishes easier. The setting sun, a blaze of oranges and purples, threw long shadows from the majestic mountains, and a blanket of mist creeping ever so slowly over their snowy caps.
Fall had come, that was for sure. The crispness in the air had turned the leaves from their former verdant green to bright reds, showy oranges, and somber browns. Karl preferred spring, but each season pleasured her uniquely, and the distance from the town allowed them to fully enjoy the landscape without the scars and wounds that civilization left on the land.
She was always getting distracted, letting her senses absorb every nuance, whether it was the line of black ants marching across the counter, or the feathery veins on the back of the leaf that was caught in the corner of the window. The smallest of details couldn't escape her notice, the blend of hues, light playing in the shadows, dust motes floating through the air. Leaving whatever task she had been in the middle of, she'd run to grab her brush.
Hours at a time she'd be absorbed trying to recreate the essence of a particular moment on her canvas. Delicate whispery strokes here, bold lines there, a wash of a slightly darker tone overlaying this. A hint of ochre here, amber there, verdigris melting into cobalt, dancing in contrast to the delicate rose and deeper Venetian red. Shadows of charcoal with burnt umbers and raw sienna's blended but distinct. Light infused white lead with hints of cerulean blue or cadmium yellow.
Marjie sat staring at the painting in front of her. It felt like part of her, but at the same time alien. Her heartbeat pounded in her temples, and she could feel pressure at the base of her neck. She was focused, but she could tell that her peripheral vision was blurred. There was something moving through her... moving her brush. Her vision was getting more distorted. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to control the art, not be controlled by it.
The light seemed to get dimmer, and she knew she had been here before. She knew by the dread that started to creep in. This ... thing... was taking over. Marjie couldn't shake it off. She tried to blink and clear her vision, but the distortion increased, the light faded, everything was dark.
Karl was used to her ways, knew that she would be consumed in the act of creating. Eventually she'd emerge from her studio, covered in spatters and exhausted, to fall into her bed and sleep, and when she had finally collapsed, he would make sure her shoes were off, and that she was comfortably arranged. After tidying up and setting the stew to simmer, he moved back into the studio. He rather looked forward to the time he could spend enjoying her work as she slept. Living with creative genius was trying at times, but also had its rewards.
Recently, he'd been noticing a disturbing trend in her work. The lines weren't as crisp as they used to be, and details weren't as defined. For months, he had thought that maybe she was exploring a new genre - something of a blending of impressionism and her former almost photographic detailing. Her work was still selling well, and it seemed the public wasn't bothered by the shift.
Today, he stood before the canvas and saw the edges of her clarity giving way. The intricate attention to detail was in evidence, but there was something slightly off. Instead of the celebration of beauty that Marjie was known for, this scene was murky. The half-formed creature lurking in the corner somehow overshadowed all the light and movement she had captured in the main body of her work.
Hours later, disturbed by the gnawing in her stomach, Marjie sat up to find herself safe in her bed. She listened, and heard the comforting noises of Karl moving through the house. She could smell the food he was cooking, and hear the ticking of the clock. All seemed as normal.
Moving to the kitchen, she turned on the kettle to heat water for tea, and then back to the painting. And there is was, she hadn't dreamed it. Karl came in behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. Together they stood and looked.
Finally Karl spoke. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
Marjie struggled to find the right words. "Karl, don't let it take me. The colors are leaving. Help me stop the blackening."
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Submitted by ArnieGeddon (user info) at 2008-04-08 19:55:01 EDT (#)
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