"A mirror never lies. Do you not see what they see? A mirror never lies. I see what they see!"
-'Curse Of The Virgin Canvas' by Alesana

This story is inspired by 'The Emptiness' by Alesana by which the first track of the album is the source of the title and the album provided the inspiration. I'm not the greatest writer in the world as you can easily see, but please give me some feedback. [:

I. The Artist[explicit]

I am The Artist and I am to be known as nothing but.
Now, the story I am about to share with you is one of pain, misery, murder, and death. The death of my Annabel. It was a nightmare.. my Annabel was gone.

They called me mad. Children fled when I would take my daily stroll to the market for fresh pastels. Demon of a man! Possessed! Only two of the barrage of insults and ridicules of the individuals I would pass along the streets. I knew why they were scared by me. It was my paintings.

My paintings - Yes, they were a tad unnerving. But nothing compared to what I was being ridiculed for. Now, dare I mention that recently my brush strokes have been leaving streaks that are increasingly more violent than the previous.
The people just didn't understand. If they would dare to open their hearts would they not see that their own darkest desires were reflected in my art?

Now, of course it was one of them that killed my beloved Annabel. Those who weren't enlightened enough to understand my art. They couldn't bear the beautiful Annabel to be with a man like me. Yes.. It makes perfect sense.. THEY killed my Annabel! Please! Would an angel enlighten me and tell me I was dreaming! The rage and despair that overcame me was unbearable. I was blinded by the mixed emotions that were swiftly overcoming me. I wanted.. No. I NEEDED to find the individual responsible! No man shall ever feel the joy and happiness of laughter again until the murderer is punished!

Consider me mad as you may, but that night I slaughtered every man, woman, and child in the local tavern. As I approached the building, I cocked my pistol and sanely enough walked into the building before raising the barrel at the back of an unsuspecting maiden. The gunshot rattled the instinct to flee in every person unfortunate enough to be in earshot. The kind of instinct to flee from death and pain. The instinct that pulls that soul-shaking fear from the depths of a man's heart.
Of course, now the proximity was filled with a mixture of screams and crying children. I remained perfectly calm and didn't flinch with each pull of the trigger. This one miserable fool decided he would try to flee past me while putting in a new round. Of course, I merely pulled a dagger from a sheath at my waste with my free hand, and held it in his path. His gut ran into the blade. He froze in place before slowly collapsing to the floor which had already collected a dark red puddle of blood.

I slaughtered fourteen people that night. Four children. Four woman. Six men. I returned home and removed my now bloodstained clothes. I approached the bedroom where she still lay - My deceased Annabel. For those who would still consider me mad, would a madman shed tears over his dead lover? I think not!
Her eyes were wide open revealing her once vibrant emerald eyes to now be the dull and dead eyes of an empty body forcefully abandoned by it's soul. Her mouth was slightly agape, a thin line of blood running down her pale cheek and onto a single fresh canvas which lay under her head and upper torso. I buried my Annabel in the cellar that night and fled the house. My Annabel was no more.


Creative Commons License
Curse Of The Virgin Canvas by Matthew C. Slaughter is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

That's part one. I'll likely get around to part two tomorrow night. Sorry for any typos or irrelevant details. I didn't proofread it and typed it on the spot. Not to mention I was in and out of the room a few times.

Feedback, please.

I slaughtered fourteen people that night. Four children. Five woman. Six men.

how many cat
...Would totally read a book by you.
Zaole wrote:
I slaughtered fourteen people that night. Four children. Five woman. Six men.

how many cat

My bad, fixed.
ExPixel wrote:
...Would totally read a book by you.

Nah, I'm not that good. [:
Permission to write the second chapter requested.
Uh, I already have the second 'chapter' planned out. Sorry. /:
Permission denied. Now set the engines to warp six. Make it so Number One.
Is this story published under the Creative Commons license?
Is now. ;D
my brush strokes has been :: have been
that are increasingly more :: increasingly and more are redundant
their own hearts would :: their and own are redundant (again later in the same sentence)
They couldn't bare :: bear
a mans :: a man's
me while putting in a new round :: ambiguous, the reader should reason that it is the one holding the gun that is reloading, but I suggest you rephrase to make this evident.
by it's own soul :: it's is the contraction of it is, you want its.
agape with thin line :: a thin line

I figured I'd pull out the grammar errors and typos while I read through it. Felt a little cheesy in parts. I probably wouldn't read a book written in this style, but seeing as it's coming from an amateur, I don't mind critiquing--despite being an amateur myself.

Also, I understand that this seems to be a dialog from the perspective of The Artist, so some grammar can be disregarded as the manner in which he speaks. If that is your intention, make sure you remain consistent.
Thank you very much!
I went through and fixed the little typos you pointed out.

I also appreciate your criticism! I'm not much of an author, as you can tell. Still - Thank you for the critique. [:
You missed a few.
I like it and got into it. I'll be waiting for part two.
You fags, I liked it. Stop acting like snobby lit majors when the most classical work you've read is American Pie.

But that's a film!

i thought this was going to be a art and sex story
I might not get around to part two tonight, guys..
I have it all planned out, though. It will be a lot longer than this one and it will be the last part.

Part two- The Thespian
Zaole, please refrain from commenting towards me in the future. Your ignorance is taxing.

"Also, I understand that this seems to be a dialog from the perspective of The Artist, so some grammar can be disregarded as the manner in which he speaks. If that is your intention, make sure you remain consistent."
^^ read that please. In simpler terms, I left it up to him as to whether to fix anything or not.

What you call intensive I happen to call redundant. I'm not alone in finding redundancies in writing to be fluff. There are tons of redundant phrases (link), and a lot of people use them often in speech and writing. I'm just offering that it is unnecessary and many others (link) say as well, including college professors who have critiqued my writing. Now, go away, you're an idiot.
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