http://serena-b.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
serena-b.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
31_days2005-08-25 11:53 pm
serena-b.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-25 11:53 pm
[August 25] [Original Fiction] Inevitably Life
Title: Inevitably Life
Day/Theme: August 25: The heart beats on and will not stop
Series: Original Fiction
Rating: PG
He was an artist; not famous, but very fine nonetheless. Mostly he painted portraits. I had happened upon him one night at a tavern and we had gone back to his room above. When I saw the beauty of the half-completed painting sitting in the corner, I knew I could not finish what I had started. From that moment it was inevitable that I’d love him.
I became his wealthy patron, letting him move into my larger home just outside the city. I encouraged him to paint whatever he wished. Each night I’d remark on his progress; it was a magical thing to me as I watched him bringing people to life on his canvas. He seemed to capture a precious moment of life.
One night he begged to paint my likeness. ‘Come to me in the day so that I can capture your beauty forever with my oils.’
I kissed his mouth ever so gently. ‘Paint whatever you desire. But if you must paint me it will have to be by candlelight, for it’s impossible for me to come to you during day.’
He looked so forlorn that I smiled for the both of us. ‘Do not worry, my love, my beauty is already forever.’ And then I told him everything; he was the only mortal that I ever allowed to know the truth of my nature.
We lived together for years, maybe many in a mortal’s lifetime but to me it seemed but the blink of an eye. The inevitable happened, of course. He fell ill and did not recover, but lingered on for weeks with coughing and fever. No matter how many doctors I sent for they each gave the same diagnosis; he was dying and nothing could be done.
I came to him one night with the proposition; I would give him my most precious gift.
But he refused, as I knew he would. ‘Eternity without the colors of daylight would be horrifying.’ I beg, I cry, my heart is being crushed but he does not relent.
‘Do you know why I painted portraits?’
I shake my head as I wipe the blood-stained tears from my face with my sleeve.
‘So that they can be remembered whey they are gone. And that’s all that I want; to be remembered. Do not cry, beloved. I have loved and been loved well. It’s all I could ever ask for.’
I lay a final kiss on his brow and hold him into the early hours of morning before slipping away at daybreak. When night falls again I awaken to a lifeless house. I burn it all and walk away into the dark, a small painting tucked under one arm.
Day/Theme: August 25: The heart beats on and will not stop
Series: Original Fiction
Rating: PG
He was an artist; not famous, but very fine nonetheless. Mostly he painted portraits. I had happened upon him one night at a tavern and we had gone back to his room above. When I saw the beauty of the half-completed painting sitting in the corner, I knew I could not finish what I had started. From that moment it was inevitable that I’d love him.
I became his wealthy patron, letting him move into my larger home just outside the city. I encouraged him to paint whatever he wished. Each night I’d remark on his progress; it was a magical thing to me as I watched him bringing people to life on his canvas. He seemed to capture a precious moment of life.
One night he begged to paint my likeness. ‘Come to me in the day so that I can capture your beauty forever with my oils.’
I kissed his mouth ever so gently. ‘Paint whatever you desire. But if you must paint me it will have to be by candlelight, for it’s impossible for me to come to you during day.’
He looked so forlorn that I smiled for the both of us. ‘Do not worry, my love, my beauty is already forever.’ And then I told him everything; he was the only mortal that I ever allowed to know the truth of my nature.
We lived together for years, maybe many in a mortal’s lifetime but to me it seemed but the blink of an eye. The inevitable happened, of course. He fell ill and did not recover, but lingered on for weeks with coughing and fever. No matter how many doctors I sent for they each gave the same diagnosis; he was dying and nothing could be done.
I came to him one night with the proposition; I would give him my most precious gift.
But he refused, as I knew he would. ‘Eternity without the colors of daylight would be horrifying.’ I beg, I cry, my heart is being crushed but he does not relent.
‘Do you know why I painted portraits?’
I shake my head as I wipe the blood-stained tears from my face with my sleeve.
‘So that they can be remembered whey they are gone. And that’s all that I want; to be remembered. Do not cry, beloved. I have loved and been loved well. It’s all I could ever ask for.’
I lay a final kiss on his brow and hold him into the early hours of morning before slipping away at daybreak. When night falls again I awaken to a lifeless house. I burn it all and walk away into the dark, a small painting tucked under one arm.