“It’s a matter of perspective really,” said Leonard, an artist of flora paintings. He hoped to get recognition for his art by whatever means necessary. He deliberated to the judges his reason as to why his painting should win the grand prize.
“This red colour is of a very unique origin, as a matter of fact, I’m the first painter to employ it,” continued Leonard. The art critic, Miss Waters was not impressed based on her expression.
“This crimson-like colour, Leonard, is quite exquisite,” said Miss Waters as she believed it to be fascinating, considering it was her first time to ever see such a painting.
“Yes ma’am. Certainly you can come over to my work shop after the expedition,” replied Leonard.
The top three winners were announced in which Leonard unfortunately wasn’t a short-listed candidate. He exited in a hurry, showing his immaturity and vanity to his art. He made his way back to his work shop.
In a frenzy, he was back at work, painting yet another piece of art. Miss Waters entered his work-shop.
“Well Leonard, where is that crimson paint of yours?”
“Right this way. Care for something to drink, Miss Waters?” asked Leonard in a friendly tone.
“Oh yes, just water will be fine, it sure is hot in your studio,” said Miss Waters who had been sweating from the heat. She opened up her shirt to try and cool herself down.
Returning back, he gave Miss Waters the glass of water to drink. Speaking for a few minutes, she began displaying signs of fatigue and drowsiness.
“You shall soon know of the perfect red,” said Leonard as Miss Waters fainted with a dark veil covering her eyes. Waking up, she found her head in pain and her body tied down to a chair. Under her arms were iron buckets. Leonard approached her, bearing a blade in his hand.
“Blood! Miss Waters, that is the secret to my perfect red,” said Leonard as he got closer to Miss Waters who was trying to still gather her wits.
A delusional fanatic for his art, Leonard never took kindly to failure or his art being mocked in any form. Miss Waters’ mouth was blocked with a piece of cloth to prevent her from screaming. Leonard had now severed her veins and the blood profusely began dripping in the two iron buckets he had placed under her arm.
“However, Miss Waters, the one place which always gives the most blood,” said Leonard while playing with her hair standing behind Miss Waters, “is the vein at the side of the neck.” he concluded of his explanation, while cutting across her neck.
Sadistically he laughed as blood from Miss Waters’ neck sprayed up like a fountain. Licking the blood of his blade, Leonard revelled in the ecstasy of death. She was his tenth victim. Eventually Miss Waters died from blood loss.
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