Entry 341: The Painting

I work with the other Reapers

In a way you could call me one of Death

I preserve the memories of the dead

The moments of their lives

I paint their memorials

I paint their triumphs

Their pains,

I paint their faces into art

Forever collecting who they eventually became

The changes in their lives

Every piece one of a kind.

In some cases I even keep their souls

Forever trapping them in art

It all depends on the orders given

Regardless,

I paint them well…

My latest creation

Something about it doesn’t feel quite right

The orders I was given

…Well…

They make me uneasy

To say the least…

The Painting I create now

Houses the many faces of a soul

One that relished in the murder they wrought upon their world…

The eyes are dark

Their face twisted in glee

Their soul is trapped within the painting

Sometimes though…

…I can hear him whispering to me…

I’ve sent my complaints to HR

They’ve told me there is nothing they can do

I must continue to paint this portrait

Till it’s ready for departure

Lest I be consumed

At least that’s what the latest notice says

Something isn’t right…

So here I sit,

Painting his face between other works of my art

Lately though,

I’ve noticed

I can see the souls image

Slowly bleeding into my other works

I can hear the souls within screaming

…Endlessly…

Every time I come back to paint

Be the painting old or new

The paintings grow a little more twisted

More nightmarish than before

They speak to me too…

HR told me to paint faster

I needed to paint more than before

If I didn’t

I’d be consumed…

I’ve painted worlds

I’ve added whole new pieces

Yet the painting that houses the demented soul

Its influence is growing

Every moment I work

I hear their screams & cries!

Still, I must keep going…

I hear his twisted laughter

He tells me how they died…

I’ve tried to keep the other paintings safe

I’ve tried to keep up

I’ve given it my all!

His voice continues to whisper to me

Telling me who will soon be up!

He knows who’s next

He knows how they all die

I’ve begun painting with my blood

He says…

“It will really bring them to LIFE!”

I hear him now

Even when I’m not in the room…

The man of many faces

He speaks of the end,

Of things to come

He speaks of suffering

Of eternal doom

 

I feel his touch upon me

Before I know it

…I’m no longer in the room…

It’s become another piece

A painting all its own

Signed in my blood

I paint his works

…From now on…

-The Painting-

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