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Perfection

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I’m going to tell you the story of a lost love. I am an old, decrepit, man of a homeless persuasion. Though talented in my youth, the spark I once held seems to have left me. It seems the Fates have cut the thread but my heart still beats. I write this as the last thoughts of a dying man.

She was beautiful. Everything about her oozed love, compassion, care and warmth. I had done it. I had created the most beautiful thing ever to have graced the earth with it’s presence. I had painted my wife. I, the great painter Devon Delezia, had captured the raw beauty of my wife. She was perfect. Long hair that put fire to shame with it’s glory. Sensual eyes that could tempt the most chaste of men. Lips that could bring kings to their knees for the chance to be kissed. Curves so voluptuous it could make angels weep and saints rage with lust. Skin so smooth it made silk seem like sand paper. She was perfection and perfection was her. But it was not the woman I fell in love with. It was the painting.

As my wife grew older the painting stayed the same. All the things the woman lacked the painting had. As the years went by the woman’s beauty failed again and again, while the painting just sat. The woman was just that, a woman. She held nothing I wanted anymore. It was obvious that I had what I needed. The painting was right there in front of her. Obviously she saw what it beheld yet more and more she wanted me to be with her. The woman with the flaws. The actuality that paled so far in comparison to the painting. The leech. The wench. Since I failed to give her the attention she thought she deserved she found other men to satisfy her. To her, this was retribution for the misunderstood apathy I felt for her. She chased man after man to get my attention, but it didn’t work. I had gotten all I wanted and that was that.

I painted other things and sold them. Obviously I had to if I wanted to keep my love with everything she wanted. She spoke to me. She told me what she fancied. She told me what she could do without. She told me what she wanted and what she needed. My wife threw around words like “insane” and “doctor”. She thought I was insane! How could that be? Did she not see the beauty that had so gloriously manifested inside our home? I told her repeatedly that the doctors were not needed, for my love was not sick. Though I told her this I knew she would call them to take her away. She wanted them to take my love away because she wanted her. Oh yes, I knew. I knew all along that she was jealous of what me and my love had with each other. A pure unadulterated passion that my w**** of a wife could not possibly comprehend. So with my love’s permission I bought a gun, to protect her from what I knew was to come.

The day finally came. While I was having a wonderful conversation with my love, my wife walked in with two men. They were dressed in white and carried a jacket. It was one of those jackets with the straps. They wanted to restrain me while they ravaged my love and my wife wanted to watch. I did what any man would do in the situation. I killed all three of them. The gun I bought to protect my love did its job and did it beautifully. All I had to do was squeeze the trigger three times. With those movements I had rid the world of three creatures unfit to even think of my love. It wasn’t entirely their fault. How could anyone feel anything but envy whilst staring at her? They were driven mad and I was the only one who could rid them of the madness.

I soon realized that I couldn’t stay there. Now people knew where my love was. She wasn’t safe. I took her off the wall. Her favorite wall. It was right above the bed. I could see every inch of her at all times in the day, but we had to go. I flew to France and bought a new apartment, but soon even there was not safe. I had to take to the streets with my love. I had to always keep moving so no one knew where she was. I eventually made it to Paris. It was a mistake. Everyone there tried to look at her. Everyone there wanted her so badly. Last night while sleeping in an alley I was awoken by footsteps coming towards me. I immediately flung myself in front of her to protect her. The man had a knife and threatened to kill me if I did not move. He wanted her. He was going to sell her. He thought she was an object. I knew she was a goddess. I tried. I tried so hard but he slipped the knife into my gut. I momentarily forgot her. The shock of it was too much, but I quickly snapped back. He was taking her! I had to stop him but I couldn’t. It was like I had lead limbs. I was helpless as she was stolen from me. There she went. Into the night. I would never see her again and I cried. I survived the night in an almost cruel joke from the gods. Surely I couldn’t live without her, but I had a thought. If I told this tale to a person with any sense they would look for her. I knew they would look for her. I knew they would.

Surely now you can see what needs to be done. Those who read this shall find her, Then you will bring her to me. I know you will. I know you wi….




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