Short story: A Dark Art

This one didn’t scream. I was kinda disappointed, you know? I had set the scene perfectly, just as I outlined yesterday. A sumptuous bed of blonde hay spread across the hard ground of the barn. I’m not sure she appreciated my efforts to keep her skirts clean though. Ungrateful wench. I didn’t bother sprinkling the lavender this time. I loved the amethyst tones, but the perfume was wasted when darker aromas permeated the space.

Shame I couldn’t control the weather. The bright, clear blue skies and blazing sunshine didn’t suit the mood and tone of the scene that I was aspiring to. Some dramatic thunderclouds would have been the consummate touch. Oh, a few stray drops of rain to leak down one perfect cheek! Perhaps I shall take some creative liberty with those. I admit though, I did particularly like the dust mites that danced in the rays of light that wormed their way through the holes in the tin roof. I wonder if I can recreate those with the sense of movement they deserve.

I’ve already processed the film. The photos are hanging in wet sheets in the darkroom. Gorgeous, if I do say so myself. I experimented a little more with some of the manual settings this time, trying to get the right depth of field as well as good level of exposure. I had one where just a single blowfly was in focus. The perfection of it makes me quite quivery. I’ll have to double-check the settings I used so I can duplicate the effect. It was the 50mm f/1.4 I think. I know the photo is just a guide to the canvas I shall create, but I am an artist. It gives me great satisfaction to create art in multiple mediums. Perhaps I should even rouse myself to write a poem, a tantalising ode?

I have kept some souvenirs aside. A few stalks of hay, some strands of hair… They shall meld with my oils and bring my masterpiece to life. Or to death, if you’ll pardon the expression.

I confess, I am getting restless waiting for the photos to dry. Time lags, and I can almost hear the wood borer clicking away the seconds. How utterly dreary. I shall ruminate on my next victim to pass the time. I’m tempted to step outside my comfort zone and experiment with a male this time. It would be a challenge, and lord knows I need one after the silent accusations that this morning’s glazed eyes gave. Dear god, I hope they don’t haunt my sleep. What a terrible thought. No, some good hearty yelling that will fade to a hoarse scratchiness. And groans, I want some deep, masculine groans. That’s it, I’m decided. And oh! Perhaps in the field this time. With the tractor as a backdrop. Yes, I’m a genius.



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