LOGINReturning home, she felt uneasy- it made her feel as though she were a stranger in her own home. With her studio in disarray, Harry tried to make it seem less fluky. He had made them dinner; and gave her more attention than usual, he would watch her with concern freckling his eyebrow; and she'd smile to reassure him. That nothing was wrong. While they were cuddling, Harry skimmed through the channels. They watched the news report and saw the supposed deranged artists effect on the populace.
-Hey Doll, I heard what happened. So sorry about that, hope Harry's giving you lots of kisses-
She was in his arms and kept leaving lipstick stains on his cheeks.
-Because of the incident, I suppose you won't be able to make it to art class. When you feel up for it, I'm always available on weekends-
Harry nuzzled her neck, and she giggled.
-I always need an assistant when I'm doing a Jason Pollock demonstration. Call me back, lots of love.-
She reached for her phone and checked her messages. The most suspicious message was that from an unknown number. Text messages from friends ae welcomed with a smile, this one-made her frown.
Another message appeared:
-Zoe here got your number from your superiors. I need you to see something, meet me at the address below-
The address was of an upcoming art gallery; it was opening in two days from now.
Dona turned to Harry." I have to go to the Berge Gallery."
"When?"
"Two days from now."
"And what about Crystal?"
"I'll see her one of these days."
He held her close and sighed, "After you've rested."
She pocked his nose. 'Of course, I wouldn't want to give you a heart attack." They turned their attention back to the screen, and he changed the channel.
She was wearing a classic trench coat, with a fedora and that hid most of her red hair. Sitting across from a concerned family, she stated."Like any private detective, I have seen many things in my years, even previously as a former agent."She took her hat off and entwined her fingers. "But nothing could have prepared me for what was to come." As the husband held his wife in his arms, she wailed as the detective continued. "I am sorry for your loss."
There she was. As a lusting satyr grabbed at a feminine figure, Dona was now the sleeping Hermaphrodite artwork. Approaching her from the rear, Harry thought she represented Venus, but, the front side revealed something unexpected.Why had she been represented as Aphrodite's son and not Aphrodite herself? She was stark naked, posing like a doll with no expression. He wanted to touch her, to stroke her cheek and feel the urgency of the scene in front of him. His chest was caving in, and he found it hard to breathe. The tears st
The doorknob twisted and a light twinkling of metal came from outside. With murderous intent, Harry flung open the door, clinging onto the arch in need for support. Like a cunning serpent, he entered the garden of artworks. Grabbing his phone torch; he lit his way through the gallery.The air was dry, and his sinuses gnawed at him. He sneezed so hard he stumbled into something near the wall. It was wet paint. The gallery was still in the making, the interior design was incomplete, but there were
No matter the room, the smell of rotting flesh followed him like a shadow. He had to steady himself on the walls, trying to escape the voices. Fervent wailing and inaudible speech vibrated all around him. He staggered his way to an unassuming door at the far end of the house.He turned his back to it as soon as he fell, rolling down the door with his stomach clenched. He held his head in his hands, shaken and confused he looked up. Looking down the hallway, the paintings and all their tumult ceased. He was now able to breathe,
*Trigger Warning* This chapter contains graphic contents.Breathless, he stood outside of Tony's residence. His throat was dry, as he swallowed in the sultry rage bobbing around his apple. He kept flicking his forefingers together. It was the witching hour, and he didn't care.
His ribs convulsed with every breath as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands on his knees. Sweating profusely he tried to stand but rocked his way back to the bed. He felt groggy, a headache, was waiting for him along with the clutter of a new day. He stood and stretched his shoulders, twisted his neck and walked towards the studio.He'd find himself wandering around like a desert wind, without a place to rest. He tried to stay busy with something other than work- he knew that it was a bad idea to be enthralled by the