The Artist
By Lisa McCourt Hollar
Simon stood before the glass enclosure, admiring his masterpiece. It looked just as he had envisioned. Bridgette’s feet were his favorite, posed in the beige shoes she’d paid a fortune for. Ben’s were bent, as though wiggling in the water. It was beautiful. It was art. Something was missing though. Simon pulled out Tanya’s pineapple scented perfume. Pouring it into the tank, the colored cologne, tinged the water yellow. Simon snapped a picture and then left the Aquarium. He couldn’t wait for the headlines. He hoped this time they called him The Artist. Serial killer was such an ugly name.
Word Count: 100
@jezri1
This is my entry for Tuesday Tales.
Nice short piece. Very dark, yet pithy.
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