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31_days2009-08-06 09:56 pm
rosehiptea.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-08-06 09:56 pm
[August 6] [Original] Verdigris
Title: Verdigris
Day/Theme: August 6/three thousand five hundred miles away
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Daniel, Anita
Rating: PG
Word Count: 724
The city was a new place to Anita, and not one she had ever wanted to visit, but right now she had little choice. She rode past strange storefronts in the taxi, reassuring herself that it would be some weeks until her money ran out, and in the meantime she could arrange to sell her house. But she still trembled as she signed the register and checked into her hotel.
As she unpacked her things she reflected that she didn't deserve this. She wasn't the one who had done anything wrong. But she was out of that town and away from Daniel and that would be enough. Wouldn't it?
She still remembered the day Daniel had moved next door. She had brought him a casserole, in small town tradition. He was a tall man with dark hair, striking really. When she had asked he had told her he was an artist. That had surprised her, than an artist had wanted to live in a little town like theirs.
When he had offered to show her his portraits, she had agreed. She had been impressed by how beautiful and lifelike they were. The faces of men and women, in natural browns and pinks, had gazed out on her from the canvas as if they were breathing. Later it would seem eerie to her, all those visages preserved forever, but at the time she only thought that Daniel was a truly good artist.
When he asked if he could paint her portrait, Anita had agreed, flattered by his interest. She had never had her portrait painted before. Daniel didn't waste much time with small talk when she showed up the next day. He seated her in a chair by the window and began a preliminary sketch.
It was when she rose from the seat and saw that sketch that everything changed. It was her: her hair, her eyes, her wistful facial expression. All it needed was color and it would be her completely. She felt as if something had been taken from her, like some of the life force had gone out of her and into the canvas.
Anita remembered hearing stories about native tribes who believed that a photograph would steal one's soul. She had actually always thought that was probably a myth, or something the people in question had said to annoy anthropologists. And she had had many photographs taken of herself without feeling strange at all. But right now she felt as if part of her soul had been taken.
Daniel seemed concerned and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you like it?" he asked.
He sounded so sincere, so innocent, that she managed to convince herself she was being ridiculous. "It's fine," she replied.
"Would you like to come back tomorrow and pose again?" he asked.
She nodded, pushing down her panic at the question. The next day she sat across from him as he began to use his brushes on the canvas. She told herself that there was nothing to worry about, that her thoughts yesterday had been some crazy moment of imagination. But when he began to paint, with every stroke of the brush she was certain something was draining out of her. She was ready to run from the room when he said they could stop for the day.
"Your eyes are like verdigris," he told her. "That's what they used to make green pigment from. And later copper arsenite... but it was a deadly poison."
When he said the word poison, she knew. Something had happened to all those people he had painted. Did they live somewhere, soulless? Or had they died? She could believe it, that he had sucked their lives out like a vampire. But no one else would believe her if she told them.
That night she bought her plane ticket, afraid that if Daniel ever saw her again he would complete his painting and she would be lost. But what if he could finish it from memory? She pictured him choosing the exact right green for her eyes, the perfect brown for the hollow of her throat. Would her life end, just then, when he was finally done?
She looked out at the lights of the city. Now she was over three thousand miles away from Daniel, but that might not be enough.
Day/Theme: August 6/three thousand five hundred miles away
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Daniel, Anita
Rating: PG
Word Count: 724
The city was a new place to Anita, and not one she had ever wanted to visit, but right now she had little choice. She rode past strange storefronts in the taxi, reassuring herself that it would be some weeks until her money ran out, and in the meantime she could arrange to sell her house. But she still trembled as she signed the register and checked into her hotel.
As she unpacked her things she reflected that she didn't deserve this. She wasn't the one who had done anything wrong. But she was out of that town and away from Daniel and that would be enough. Wouldn't it?
She still remembered the day Daniel had moved next door. She had brought him a casserole, in small town tradition. He was a tall man with dark hair, striking really. When she had asked he had told her he was an artist. That had surprised her, than an artist had wanted to live in a little town like theirs.
When he had offered to show her his portraits, she had agreed. She had been impressed by how beautiful and lifelike they were. The faces of men and women, in natural browns and pinks, had gazed out on her from the canvas as if they were breathing. Later it would seem eerie to her, all those visages preserved forever, but at the time she only thought that Daniel was a truly good artist.
When he asked if he could paint her portrait, Anita had agreed, flattered by his interest. She had never had her portrait painted before. Daniel didn't waste much time with small talk when she showed up the next day. He seated her in a chair by the window and began a preliminary sketch.
It was when she rose from the seat and saw that sketch that everything changed. It was her: her hair, her eyes, her wistful facial expression. All it needed was color and it would be her completely. She felt as if something had been taken from her, like some of the life force had gone out of her and into the canvas.
Anita remembered hearing stories about native tribes who believed that a photograph would steal one's soul. She had actually always thought that was probably a myth, or something the people in question had said to annoy anthropologists. And she had had many photographs taken of herself without feeling strange at all. But right now she felt as if part of her soul had been taken.
Daniel seemed concerned and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't you like it?" he asked.
He sounded so sincere, so innocent, that she managed to convince herself she was being ridiculous. "It's fine," she replied.
"Would you like to come back tomorrow and pose again?" he asked.
She nodded, pushing down her panic at the question. The next day she sat across from him as he began to use his brushes on the canvas. She told herself that there was nothing to worry about, that her thoughts yesterday had been some crazy moment of imagination. But when he began to paint, with every stroke of the brush she was certain something was draining out of her. She was ready to run from the room when he said they could stop for the day.
"Your eyes are like verdigris," he told her. "That's what they used to make green pigment from. And later copper arsenite... but it was a deadly poison."
When he said the word poison, she knew. Something had happened to all those people he had painted. Did they live somewhere, soulless? Or had they died? She could believe it, that he had sucked their lives out like a vampire. But no one else would believe her if she told them.
That night she bought her plane ticket, afraid that if Daniel ever saw her again he would complete his painting and she would be lost. But what if he could finish it from memory? She pictured him choosing the exact right green for her eyes, the perfect brown for the hollow of her throat. Would her life end, just then, when he was finally done?
She looked out at the lights of the city. Now she was over three thousand miles away from Daniel, but that might not be enough.