Anastasia Buys a Painting - The Killer vs. The Artist

Anastasia Buys a Painting - The Killer vs. The Artist

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Dear Diary,
I just got back from a very interesting expedition. Let me start from the beginning. It is not often that I Anastasia go outdoors. But this was necessary.... You see my collection of knives were not doing so well.
Oh what is it that you are saying dear diary? Oh no darling, my knives are not sick, but they are getting blunt too easily, probably because of frequent use. And it is very frustrating to cut meat with a dull knife. Especially when the knife begins to break when trying to chop a backbone in 2 pieces.

Oh darling diary, I do not mean to beat you like that. But this has caused me an overwhelming amount of frustration. What I needed was a knife with a strong handle and a sharp long blade. It is at the flea market where one can hope to find such an unusual knife, so to the flea market I went.

I passed a stall filled with all sorts of quaint oddities. On top if it was a painting. It was a rough sketch of a rotting corpse against a bright orange background. There was something, very soothing and relaxing about this painting. The artist of this painting was sitting calmly on a chair and looked quite normal, but I sensed from his painting that something was amiss about him.

What has inspired you to paint this? I asked..
“Life” He replied. ”Life is the inspiration.“

Ha ha ha, this answer made me chuckle.
“Why, life inspires some to kill as well.” I said

The artist remained quiet. I could that this was an artist of few words, but his words were reflected in his painting. Thus the only way to converse with this artist was to read his painting. It is his creation that will reveal who he is.

As I stared at the painting, I began to realize that an artist and a killer are very much alike.The artist paints with passion, uses colors to express his emotions, draws images to portray his feelings and news.

Similarly, a killer kills with passion as well. Each stab into the flesh reflects her feelings. Each fresh kill reflects her emotions. Strong emotions are only found in unusual people. Strong emotions are a form of defiance. A defiance against living in a constricted human society.

In the end, the artist is happy and has a sense of accomplishment when he finishes his painting. He has left a deep mark in this world. Likewise, the killer is very happy at each human life, she takes. Arranging the dead body against a bright orange carpet is a display of her accomplishments. She has left a deep mark in this world as well.

In this case, this particular artist has created an image of a corpse while the killer has created an actual physical corpse. Similar creations by similar people. I now had to have this painting, for it had an uncanny way of calling out to me. I paid the artist the full price for this painting. I wondered if I should have haggled, for that seems to be the sort of thing that one does at a flea market. But I Anastasia do not haggle. I knew that if I wanted a lower price for it, all I had to do was take away the life of this artist and walk off with his painting. Now that’s a deal!!

But I knew that would not be a wise decision, for I am sort of eager to see what this artist would paint next. Plus I had other things to buy at this flea market and I needed to save my bullets. You see I carry this shot gun in a large shopping bag, in the event that I REALLY needed to haggle..

As the artist packet the painting in brown paper, I couldn’t help but say to him –
“Do you know that it is the 2 of us have in common?”
He paused what he was doing and looked up at me.

“We are both disharmonious members of society darling…” I said

Without saying a word, the artist handed me the newly packaged painting and as I looked closer I noticed he had a slight smile on his face.
This artist knew exactly what I meant.
The painting of the rotted corpse now hangs in my living room. What strikes me the most about this painting is its bright orange background, for it matches exactly with the orange carpet of my living room on which this dead body lies on

And you know my darling diary, it is not often one finds a painting that matches ones carpet.

Anastasia


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Anastasia's Replica

Anastasia's Replica - I see Double

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Dear Diary,
I have just had the most sinister of experiences, the most twisted of encounters. Don’t be impatient my darling diary, I will tell you everything. Let me start from the beginning.

Rarely do I leave the house but on the few instances that I did, it really was out of necessity. I had eaten all the cheese from several mouse traps. You see the superintendent of the apartment building that I live in, set dangerous mousetraps hoping to kill this army of mice that live in the boiler room. What the superintendent did not know was that every night, I would eat the cheese from the traps. As a result there would be no mice murdered. Aren’t I Anastasia nice?

Nevertheless, I was very hungry and all out of cheese. So a trip to the supermarket was necessary. As I stood in front of the automatic sliding doors, strangely, in front of me, there was a mirror. What idiot puts a mirror in front of the door? Oh dear diary, was I in for shock, for this mirror started walking!! This was no mirror, this was my double right in front of me! Black hair, big eyes – that must be my twin.

Despite the fact that I was directly in front of her, she walked right past me. Perhaps she thought I was a mirror. Interesting…
I must find out who this identical replica of me is! If she looks like me, then maybe she is like me. I can befriend her and then finally I Anastasia can have a true dear friend.

I followed her from a distance, her long black hair swung as she walked. My hair swings that same way. My replica then stopped in front of a large gathering of humans. Now things will get exciting. My twin will bring destruction to this group of humans. I wonder what sort of tactics she has in mind. Perhaps I can help her!

Then to my astonishment, the humans gathered around her and engaged in friendly chit-chat. I was in shock!! How could that be? But yes, she was! The humans were interacting with her in the most welcoming manner. They felt safe and comfortable in her presence.
What could she be possibly be saying to them?

If these humans were to be so warm to my double, then surely they will greet me in similar fashion! Perhaps these humans were different too. They must be free thinking, intelligent individuals… Ahhhh.. finally there exists a good specimen of humans. And I thought there was no hope.

I eagerly ran up to befriend these humans.
“Hello humans, how are all of you doing today? I am Anastasia.” I greeted them.

The humans stared at me, but this was not the warm stare I expected. This was an icy cold angry glare. Then they started to roll their eyes at me…..up and down and all around.

A glob of spit landed on my face. The humans were gearing themselves in attack mode and were spitting on me!! How could they be so disgusted at me, but yet embrace my exact replica with such a warm welcome?

I was in no mood to ponder the logic of these humans, so I used my pocket grenade to get rid of them. Oh darling diary, I know what you are thinking, what on earth is a pocket grenade? Well it is a small explosive that can blow up about 12 people. And its tiny enough to fit into my pocket. Sort of like a pocket calculator but more efficient. After all a pocket grenade is very handy in getting rid of slimy eye-ball rolling humans.

I continued on my trip leaving behind a scene of carnage. Fresh human meat never smelt so good…..
My replica was still ahead. As I watched her, I felt a powerful rage come over me. How dare does a duplicate of me conform to these ugly humans. Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal!
I must get rid of my twin. It’s an embarrassment to have a twin that mingles with the enemy.

I pulled my hunting knife out and pounced on her. Now we were face to face. Just as I was ready to cut her heart out, I noticed something very different in her face. She had no expression on her face. In fact, whatever expression, she could have was very restrained and controlled. Then she started to speak. Her voice was similar to mine, but not quite. Her words were useless pathetic words. Insignificant words never have real meaning.

I felt pity for her. Why, the only reason that those humans liked her was because she was a slave just like them. She abided by their rules. Even her eyes can be wild like mind but she had chosen to constrain herself and be an obedient member of society. It was her choice to be a slave.

Hmmm…. I wonder how she will react to me? Could she be as disgusted towards me as I am of her? To my amusement, she was 10 times as disgusted and flabbergasted by my presence! She stared at me in disbelief. Probably shocked that an identical version of her can be so strange, so unusual, so bizarre. And most of all, I was no one’s slave. The crucial difference between her and I was that she was born to follow and I was not.

Her disgust at me made me laugh…. Ha Ha Haha.. I laugh like a jackal. I will let this silly fool live. She can live the rest of her life in uncomfortable pain knowing that an exact replica of her, will never give into the restrictions and constraints of human prison society. And that exact replica is I Anastasia.

Anastasia


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