Rag-A-Muffin
23
posts
5
likes
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
|
Post by Harley Quinn on Aug 5, 2017 13:04:42 GMT -6
Her westside apartment was on the twenty-second floor and her vista was quite spectacular. The view was perfect and serene because it lacked the human element. No man or woman or child, no structure or machine or artefact intruded. So quiet. So clean. She lowered he gaze from the sky and sea to the pallid beach at the foot of the bluff. Leaning her forehead against the glass, she imagined what her life may have been like with Louis, in Corsica. No troubles or cares. She ached for him, the one man she had ever truly loved — her kidnapper.
Sighing she put on a coat and took the elevator to the lobby, where the florid-faced doorman made a great show of hailing her a cab. The taxi dropped her in front of second street, Painter’s Bend arts gallery. She pushed through the revolving door and her footsteps on the marble floor sounded impossibly loud to her. Harley had a membership and went all the time. Art was something Louis had taught her to appreciate. As business was good Harley had enough money to purchase an art print for her vista. Something for her bedroom perhaps. She wandered though the different galleries hoping for something to catch her eye.
|
|
Rag-A-Muffin
16
posts
7
likes
This is why I don't talk to people.
|
Post by Archer Clyde on Aug 6, 2017 16:56:33 GMT -6
Archer was having writer's block for awhile now. He couldn't have anything come to his mind for his story. It was always the same old, cliche, kind of style idea that came to his mind. He couldn't revitalize it. He attempted but it was always a failed attempt. He was never pleased with settling for something that wasn't to his full potential. He knew he wasn't going to get anything done with it so he didn't bother trying on it that day. He was not working for the Lincoln Theatre either. He had a day off, which was surprising for him. He always continued to work and never had a day to rest.
He decided to get his mind off of things by trying to liven up his day. He decided to make a trip to Painter's Bend. It was a beautiful art gallery that he would visit. The artwork always seemed to spark some determination in him. Not to mention, ideas began to flow while his mind took in all the lively paintings. He walked through the doors and began heading to one of his favorite pieces. It had a melancholy atmosphere to it which always pulled him in. He was focusing on the painting as an idea went through his mind. He widened his eyes and wasted no time. He grabbed his notebook from his jacket's pocket, then his pen, and began writing what he was thinking. He continued to write until someone caught his eye. He looked over to spot a short, blonde haired woman, with piercing blue eyes. He stared for a moment before focusing again on his writing.
|
|
Rag-A-Muffin
23
posts
5
likes
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
|
Post by Harley Quinn on Aug 6, 2017 19:39:16 GMT -6
Harley wandered around appreciating the numerous collection. The first showcased the wonderful works of Monet and then she spent nearly an hour in the Rijksmuseum before hurrying to look at Van Gogh, El Grecos and Velázquezes and finally Goya’s.
None of the art had captivated until she came across a piece titled ’Saturn Devouring His Son’ by Goya. It was profoundly disturbing, brilliantly composed and executed, without doubt a major work of art—but perhaps more suited to the walls of a museum than a private home. It needed to be dwarfed by a huge exhibition space with vaulted ceilings.
In her bedroom of ordinary dimensions, the painting would be overpowering, its dark energy almost paralysing. She pictured it there on the wall of her apartment directly opposite the bed. It would be the first thing she would see upon waking and last thing before falling asleep each night. The work was menacing, abrasive to the nerves and conveyed a sense of horror and despair, not least of all because it included the figure of a giant, demonic Titan in the act of devouring a bloody and headless human body. To Harley it was stunning.
The echo of footsteps into the room broke the spell of the painting, and had her looking at the lonely figure on the other side of the quite room. It was a man. He was scribbling on a notepad. Harley supposed that some people might find flaws in his face. Perhaps some would say that his brow was too wide. His nose so straight that some might think it was severe. Others might say that his mouth was too wide, his chin too pointed. To Harley, however, his face was charming.
“Excuse me.”
She turned to walk the length of the room over to him.
“Hi, look sorry I don’t mean to interrupt whatever you’re doing but if you have a moment I’d like your opinion.” Harley took hold of his forearm and pulled him over to where she had been standing a moment ago.
“Well, what do you think?” she asked, her hand indicating the painting. “I’m thinking to purchase it for my bedroom.” There was a spark in her eyes and a lopsided smile on her lips.
|
|