Istockphoto 4565444-man-holding-bloody-knife-over-woman-s-body-lying-on-floor

Written by Ashton Allen

I am an artist.

I am a lot of other things too, a person, a member of society, a lover, and I even have a name. Though none of those things define me more... than my art.

I lived a simple childhood. My parents always showed the utmost care to my being, even to the point when it became sickening, and always took care of me. I had a girlfriend once who I Intended to marry before my passion for the arts took its turn.

My art teacher, who I had grown to adore for he was like a father to me, once told me "inspiration can come from anywhere and defines an artist, by showing you how they see the world". Real compelling stuff but not enough for me to really understand what he meant. I now realize it's one of those things that you fully understand on your own. Like reading a book by yourself, you gain a better comprehension than it being read to you.

It was winter back then, I don't remember the date but I remember the snow... and how cold it was when it latched onto your skin, like a parasite of frozen water. I was a blooming young artist and was currently suffering from writer's block. I was on the prowl for inspiration, which is harder to find than looking for a lost marble in a mansion.

I exited the art gallery, being there for no other reason then wanting to be surrounded by art at its best, which is completely opinion based considering it was at a section of Da Vinci's work and he had been my inspiration for art in the first place, and entered into the cold streets of New York. NYC, the "greatest city on earth" honestly I believe they say this because of how horrible people here can be and that they like to think something nice about their beloved city, and I had grown to be one of those people.

"Find anything to kick start that brain of yours?" hearing the voice of a girl, cold by the sounds of it, whom of which I recognized almost immediately... it was my girlfriend Venesa.

"Not really, but it was nice to see some of Da Vinci's work again. This place always has a way of making me feel right at home." I was an artist after all, of course I felt right at home in an art exhibit. To which no surprise I get a scoff from my lover and a snotty attitude in her voice as she said.

"Duh, you would feel right at home if someone threw you in a paint bucket and told you it was art! You need to take some time for yourself and quit worrying about your mental blockage. Inspiration strikes when it strikes, it isn't something you can force." Even though she knew nothing about art, she was right. Inspiration does strike when it is needed; however, the matter of how it strikes is... unique for every person.

"Alright, alright. I will take you out to dinner... you could've just asked." Laughing as my facetious attitude hits her like a ton of bricks.

"Now you are getting it. Come on, there is a hot dog stand not too far from here and I got the munchies." Her use of the word "munchies" is odd but I followed along regardless, as I too was hungry.

After a few hours of us enjoying our night on the town, we decided that we should find a place to retire for the evening.

"SHIT, it is fucking freezing out here!" Her language is foul but her point does prove valid as I agree that we need to find a warmer place to reside in than the dirty streets of the NYC.

"How about my studio? You love it there and I do have my key on me."

"Are we allowed?"

"Of course we are, It is my studio after all, I sleep there all the time!"

So we decided to make a trip to my art studio which was in a bad part of town, and yet yielded the most beauty as the night sky hit it with such nostalgic passion. I had an ulterior motive of course, hopefully as I dragged my lover to my studio, in the slim chance I would gain inspiration for my first love...


An hour passed as we arrived at the building, saying hello to the neighbors as we climb the stairs, gaining in anxiety as I passed each step. My nostalgia growing with each pitter-padder of the heels of our shoes. As I open the door, I unveil to her my lair of creativity and masterpieces, completely biased of course. Allowing her into my world, I eagerly awaited her reaction.

"So, what do you think, honey?" my voice barely containing itself as it burst out of my lungs with joy and excitement but trying to act as suave as I can be.

"This place is pretty cool, I do like the randomness of it all." said with the utmost faint monotone in her voice, faint... but still there.

...That was her reaction.

"That's it? This is my place of creation, this is all I have to offer to the world, can't you be a little bit more excited?" Trying to sound sincere when in reality I wished to explode into a burst of rage, but I wanted her to appreciate what I was showing her, not fear it. After all, this was my favorite place in the world.

"Sorry. I promise I will help your art in anyway possible, okay?" A smile crawled upon her face which was so extraordinarily adorable that I had to agree.

"Alright, I need some supplies. I will be back in a bit."

"Okay, see you." A small kiss is exchanged between our lips as I make my exit of my liar.

I didn't know how much I would change after the events that would occur upon my return.

I... didn't know how much I would... love it.

After an hour or two had passed, most of the time spent on me being indecisive, I was at my building once again. Realizing how late it was, I jogged up the stairs, supplies in hand. My supplies, other than paint, was an odd group of objects, screws, a couple nails, few knives and even a screw driver. These objects seem random, but I am a visual panter setting up models and then transpiring them onto the canvas. I had no idea what I would do with these things but I knew I would make something beautiful as I purchased them.

Oh... how right I was...

As I approached my door I heard a scream that was slightly muffled due to my thick metal door that had been requested by other tenants, do to the noise I tend to make as I create art.

I opened the door to see a man with a gun pointing at my girlfriend asking for any cash she had on her.

"GIVE ME EVERYTHING YOU GO , who the fuck are you?!" his accent was defiantly local and as thick as it could be.

Scarred out of my mind, I tried to answer with all of the bravado that I could muster.

"I live here and this is my girlfriend," I roared, drawing the knife from my bag. "I suggest you leave... NOW!"


I charged at him as he turned the gun to my position with a swift tackle. The knife had entered his shoulder and dead silence fell as the gun banged against the ground and with that, one sound was made that we all wish to never hear...

Gun Fire... The gun exploded into a burst of sparks as the bullet exited the chamber. Time seemed to slow down as I prayed the gun wasn't pointing in her direction.

...It was.

I turned, scared of what I might see. All I could see was Venesa slumped over. At the time she was unconscious but I was unaware.

"NO!" I turned to the man of my suffering and grabbed the knife that was impaled into his shoulder and removed it only to impale his face, torso, genital region, and any other area of the body you can think of, while I screamed in anger and sadness...

Something... broke... not the knife, even though I broke that opening into his chest, but something... in me, I stood up and looked at my... art.

It was... art... inspired by a plethora of emotions that consumed my being that had left me... empty.

As if I was completely devoid of all emotion... I only wanted to create more masterpieces like this one... all that mattered now was... my art.

I heard a moan of pain as I see Venesa awaken from her slumber.

"Uhhh... what happened, where did the gu-" her sentence was cut short as she saw my work.

"Oh do you like it? I just made it, you see... I found my inspiration. Though it isn't complete, it needs more.... material."

"Do you remember when you said you would help?," I asked gently, drawing the other knife from my bag. "Because I really need your help..."

Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.