Ceramic DM - Round 3 - Rodrigo Istalindir
"Life Imitates Art"
Katsumi sighed and slammed the fallboard of the piano closed. The missed note still reverberated in her ears, mocking her. No one else in the room had paid any attention to her mistake; it was a practice room, after all. The clatter from her outburst, however, brought the room to a stunned standstill. Silence reigned for an interminable moment, and her face flushed in embarrassment as she imagined everyone staring at her. Eyes downcast, she pushed back the bench and hurried from the room. Only after she’d passed into the hallway did the sounds of various instruments resume.
“Hey, Kat, wait up,” a voice called from behind her.
Kat didn’t break stride. David LaMont was a musical genius, equally home playing Scarlatti’s Sonata Grave or Satriani’s Cryin’. The last thing she needed right now was sympathy from that perfect little twerp, even if he was her sort-of boyfriend. They’d dated a few times, nothing serious, but the potential was there. Kat’s obsession with music discouraged most men, but David was just as passionate about playing the guitar. It was nice to be able to tell someone that you hadn’t answered the phone when they called because you were practicing, and have them understand completely.
Her anger and frustration fading, she relented and stopped at the top of the stairs. She turned and watched David running down the hall towards her.
“Jesus, Kat, you nearly gave half the people in the room a heart attack.” David said. “It sounded like a gunshot.”
“Sorry. I was just pissed that I still haven’t got that movement right. It’s only two weeks until finals, and a week after that is the national competition.”
“I was listening. You played it perfectly seven times in a row. It’s no wonder you finally made a mistake – your fingers had to be ready to fall off.” David countered.
“They may as well fall off if they aren’t going to do what I tell them too.” Kat replied.
The pair descended the wide stone steps that led from the concert hall. The sun was shining brightly, and the quad was filled with college students enjoying the weather, studiously ignoring the fact that exams were imminent.
“So, are you coming over tonight?” David asked.
Kat hesitated. She knew she should come back and practice some more, but David had been bugging her all week to have dinner with him. He was probably a gourmet cook, too, she thought.
She knew she was being unfair. David wasn’t one of those people who rubbed your nose in their accomplishments, and he worked hard to make the things he did look easy.
“Sure,” she said. “What time?”
“How about 6? We can listen to the new ‘Pessimists’ album while dinner cooks.”
“Sounds good. Can I bring anything?” she asked.
♪
Kat looked around David’s apartment. It was obvious where his interests lie. Second-hand bookcases groaned under the weight of hundreds of CD’s, and an expensive stereo system sat upon a desk that looked to have been scavenged from a junkyard.
The pair sat on the ratty sofa in David’s apartment. Dinner had been delicious. David had prepared traditional Japanese cuisine, and Kat had been surprised by the gesture. She felt him hesitantly put his arm around her, and she relaxed into his embrace. The afternoon’s frustrations melted, her worries over the upcoming competition banished.
A new CD started, a piano concerto, but she barely noticed. She turned slightly, and saw David gazing at her. He lowered his mouth towards hers, and they kissed, tenderly at first, but with a passion that echoed the rising tempo of the music. For several minutes they remained entwined, each caressing the other.
Kat felt David’s fingers fumbling with the fastenings on her blouse, and her body stiffened for a moment. For a moment, she considered stopping him, but her ardor was as great as his, and she relented. One by one, the sea shell buttons came undone, and she felt the cool air on her bare shoulders as her shirt fell open. She tensed again, knowing what would come next.
David gasped, and Kat prepared herself for a repeat of the scene that always played out in such circumstances. But in place of the awkwardness she usually sensed, David’s voice seemed curious.
“Wow, Kat”
David gazed upon Katsumi’s half-naked body. From just below the hollow of her throat, extending down past her tiny breasts and disappearing underneath her jeans, an amazing panorama decorated her skin. (Picture #3) The flickering candlelight made the tattoos dance and writhe.
“You don’t think they’re ugly?” she whispered.
“I think they’re beautiful. I think you’re beautiful.”
David’s gaze met hers and she blushed. Standing, he took her hand in his. She rose and let him lead her into the bedroom.
♪
Hours later, the exhausted couple lay in bed. Kat lay with her back to David, and in the moonlight his fingers traced the figures that adorned her body. Images of animals appeared next to human faces. Kanji lettering mixed with English. Here and there, unknown symbols were also visible.
“Are the man and woman your parents?” he enquired, referring to the largest of the images that graced her smooth skin.
“Yes.”
“Did they ever see it”
“No, they would have freaked I had to hide it from them.”
David knew little of Katsumi’s parents. He knew they had died the summer before she came to the university, but she rarely spoke of them.
“How do you decide what to have done?” he asked.
“I draw the pictures myself. They’re mostly to remembrances, of important people or times in my life. Some of them are supposed to be magic symbols, or incantations. I usually get a new one before a major performance, for good luck.”
“Maybe one day you’ll get one that says ‘David’.
Kat rolled over and kissed him.
“I hope not,” she said, kissing him to forestall the inevitable question.
♪
That Friday, Kat approached the auditorium. Final exams for the Advanced Classical Piano class were today, and she was nervous. She was still having trouble with the same part of her composition, and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake. An ‘A’ on the exam wouldn’t be good enough; she needed to finish first in the class. A ‘first’ here would get earn an automatic invitation to the national competition. Win there and every concert hall in the country would be begging her to play. Her future as a renowned artist would be guaranteed.
She entered the auditorium and sat in the back, away from the rest of her class. The order of performance had been decided randomly, and she was set to play near the end. She closed her eyes and listened as student after student played the piano set at the center of the stage. She smiled to herself every time she heard a mistake or hesitation.
Scattered applause marked the conclusion of another student’s performance, and Kat sat up, paying attention now as Samantha Lewis ascended the stage. Here was the one person that could seriously challenge her, and she absently rubbed the still-sore spot on her hip as Samantha began to play.
For several minutes, musical perfection issued forth from the stage. A knot formed in Kat’s stomach. She closed her eyes again, and chanted ‘Mistake!’ under her breath.
A jarring note broke the flowing melody, and Kat’s eyes snapped open. On the stage, Samantha looked unperturbed, but Kat’s trained gaze caught the tension in her neck and shoulders as she continued the piece. Kat’s silent mantra continued, but Samantha finished the performance without making another mistake. Kat hoped it would be enough.
Several performers later, and it was Kat’s turn. She walked to the front of the auditorium and sat in front of the piano. Taking a deep breath, she launched into the piece she had been practicing for weeks. All was perfect, her fingers dancing over the keys, and then disaster struck. It was the same movement that had been troubling her, the one she had performed flawlessly while warming up, and once again her fingers betrayed her. It was a slight mistake, less serious than the one made by Samantha earlier, but it was not the flawless performance she wanted. She continued to the end, then stood and walked back to her seat.
When the last performer had completed their piece, the judges gathered at the front of the auditorium. For several minutes that spoke in hushed tones. Finally, the head of the music department broke from the group.
Knocking on the stage, he waited until he had the class’s attention.
“Such wonderful performances, all of you. You have performed beautifully, and we are proud to have such fine students at this university.”
“Grades will be posted in the morning, but I’m sure you all want to know which among you finished first. It was a very close competition, but the judges concurred that while both Samantha and Katsumi were technically equally good, Samantha’s original composition showed more originality and passion. Accordingly, we are awarding Samantha first place, with Katsumi as alternate.”
Kat’s heart stopped. All the work, the hours of practice, and then to lose not because of her technical skills, but because of the personal bias of the judges. How could they do this to her. Stifling a sob, she stood and hurried from the auditorium.
♪
After classes the following Monday, Kat walked to the bus stop and waited for the #14 bus that went downtown. When it arrived, she hurried aboard and sat far in the back, away from the few other riders. The ride was long but uneventful, and Kat got off at a stop in the heart of the city.
Although the locals called it ‘Chinatown’ like they did in most big cities, the denizens of this district represented almost every Oriental culture. The buildings were built closely together, with retail shops and restaurants on the ground floors. Above were tiny apartments, often with two or more families crammed together.
Kat walked quickly down the street, and turned into a narrow lane between a tea room and a shop selling traditional medicines. At the end of the dark alley stood a green door, the lettering barely visible beneath the dirt. Kat knocked once and waited.
After nearly a minute, the door opened, and a wizened Japanese man peered up at her. He nodded, and let her in.
The two made their way down an unlit hallway, and through a beaded doorway. A thick cloud of incense hung in the air, but Kat, used to it, was unaffected save for a slight stinging sensation in her eyes. She made her way to the battered dentist’s chair and sat.
“What do you wish this time?” the old man asked in Japanese.
Without a word, Kat opened her backpack and withdrew a sheet of paper. On it was a pencil sketch, human hands wreathed in stylized flames. Below were several Kanji symbols.
The man took the sketch and pinned it to the wall next to the chair.
“Where?”
Still silent, Kat hiked up her skirt and pointed to a spot high on her left hip. The man nodded and began preparing the needles and inks. Kat closed her eyes and waited for the pain. Every time she hoped that she would have become used to it, but each new tattoo seemed to hurt worse than the last.
♪
The next day, Kat watched from a distance as Samantha Lewis left her dorm and headed for her next class. Kat followed discreetly as Samantha crossed the campus and entered Anderson Hall, the building where most of the art classes were taught. Kat waited for several minutes, and then she too entered. She walked down the hall, stopping outside the workroom where the ceramic and glass-making classes were taught. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard Samantha laughing and telling her classmates about the upcoming competition. Kat felt her hip flair in pain, and it seemed for a moment as if her new tattoo had come to fiery life.
Inside the room, there was a sudden crash as a large piece of glass smashed upon the floor.
“Sam, are you okay?” a voice called out.
There was no response, but a moment later there was a larger crash. Kat peered cautiously through the small window set in the door. Across the room, she saw Samantha standing in front of an overturned table, shards of stained glass scattered everywhere. Around her, the other students stared in shock.
Kat watched as Samantha overturned another table, colorful panes of glass shattering like flowery grenades. A girl reached out to grab Sam’s shoulder, but Sam just shook loose. She looked up, and for a second seemed to stare directly at Kat’s face framed in the window.
With a sob, Samantha broke through the throng crowding around here, and rushed to the back of the room where the glass furnace stood.
With an anguished cry, Samantha thrust her hands into the molten glass. (Picture #2) A split-second too late, the instructor grabbed her and pulled her away from the inferno. Screams erupted from the other students as the teacher hurried the mutilated girl to the sink and thrust her burning hands beneath the water.
♪
“It’s just so.. so.. horrible.” Kat said.
She sat on David’s couch while he cooked dinner. Like everyone else on campus, all they could talk about was the terrible incident that had occurred in the arts and crafts building.
“I know.” David said. “Such a waste. She wasn’t anywhere near your caliber, but she was still a gifted musician. I can’t begin to understand how she could do that. I’d rather die than not be able to play the guitar any more.”
“Me, too,” Kat replied. “But you know the pressure we all operate under. Maybe the thought of having to compete in the Nationals was the straw the broke the camel’s back. Maybe she couldn’t take it and just snapped.”
“That’s the only thing that makes any sense. Still, you’d think she could just walk away from it.”
“We’ll probably never know for sure. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It will be hard enough taking her place. I don’t want to be see her burned hands in my head every time I close my eyes.”
David kissed her on the forehead as he placed the dinner plates on the coffee table.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re so single-minded when you play, you’ll never even think about it.”
♪
David lay on his side, awake despite being exhausted. Beside him, Kat slept fitfully, muttering in Japanese. The sheets lay crumpled between them, and David traced the tattoos that decorated her body. He was worried about her. Kat always seemed to have everything under control, but he knew what a roller-coaster she’d been on recently.
His finger followed the portrait of her parents. The figures were surrounded by an intricate wreath that he suddenly realized was a series of stylized waves. They were the color often referred to as ‘sea foam’, and they rippled as the muscles beneath them expanded with Kat’s slow breathing. At the bottom were Japanese letters, presumably the names of her parents.
He’d poked around on the Internet, and found an old newspaper article in the International Herald Tribune about a ferry that had sunk between Kobe and Takamatsu. All on board had been lost, including Kat’s parents. He assumed she must have been away at a competition or something. Survivor’s guilt was pretty common, and what little she’d said about them led him to believe that they hadn’t gotten along well. Maybe that was why she drove herself so relentlessly.
Kat tossed in her sleep, rolling away from him. Moonlight splayed through a gap in the ragged shades that covered the window, illuminating her bare bottom. David stared, then blushed and started to avert his eyes. As he looked away, a bright patch of skin caught his eye. He looked at the crimson drawing on her hip.
It appeared to be flames, and he looked closer. With a chill, he realized that those were hands enshrouded in the flames. Creepy, he thought, and he wondered when she’d gotten that particular image. He hadn’t noticed it before, and he’d thought he’d seen every square inch of her in the past couple of weeks.
♪
“Oh no!” Kat cried out. “Not him. Anybody but him.”
“What’s the matter, Kat?” David asked. The national competition was only days away, and Kat had been increasingly agitated. He’d come over to her apartment that afternoon, hoping that she’d give up her constant worrying long enough to take in a movie.
“It’s the list of judges for the competition. They made an addition at the last minute. Here, read this.” She thrust the ‘Arts’ section of the newspaper towards him.
David read the article and then looked at her.
“So what’s the big deal. Dominic Patrovanni is a world-famous pianist. It’s an amazing opportunity for you. Plus, he’s donating the use of his personal piano. How many people get to play on an authentic, hundred-year-old Bosendorfer?”
“Patrovanni’s a bigot.” Kat replied. “There was an interview with him a couple years ago. He went on and on about how only Europeans had any real appreciation or talent for classical music.”
“He also refuses to take any students that aren’t white and male. I can’t believe they expect this pig to be an objective judge.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. He can’t be that bad. Besides, he’s only one of the judges.” David countered. “If he tries anything that outrageous, they’ll slap him down.”
“Hardly. They’re so enraptured at the thought of being in the same room as the great Patrovanni that they’ll bend over backwards to accommodate him. They’d never have the guts to disagree.” Kat said.
Kat stood and grabbed the newspaper back from David. She crumpled it into a small ball and threw it across the room at the garbage can. It missed and bounced under her desk.
David stood up and walked over to where the balled-up newspaper lay on the ground. He retrieved it and dumped it into the wastebasket. His attention was caught by a number of pencil sketches pinned to the wall.
“These are amazing. You are so talented. You could have been as good an artist as you are a pianist.”
David’s gaze wandered over the pictures. There were drawings of animals so lifelike he expected them to jump from the paper. He saw one drawing of the university auditorium, and another of St. Elizabeth’s cathedral. Some must have been from her hometown in Japan, judging by the architecture. There was even one of him, a stunning portrait of him playing the guitar, a look of intense concentration mixed with sheer joy on his face.
“Ick! What’s this?” he asked, pointing to a rendering of some horrific creature. It was like something out of a monster movie, all sharp teeth and slimy tentacles.
“That’s nothing. Just something from a nightmare I have every once in a while, when I get really stressed. I thought maybe putting it on paper would get it out of my head.” Kat said.
Kat pulled the picture from the wall and crumpled it like she had the newspaper.
”Let’s go to the late show instead. I want to get another hour of practice in.”
“What about food? You have to eat.” David asked.
“We’ll go to that Thai place next to the theater. I’ll meet you there at 7:30. That’ll give us time to eat before the movie.”
“Ok, that sounds like a plan. But only one hour of practice. Promise me.” David said as he opened the door.
“One hour, I promise.”
♪
Kat closed the door behind him, then hurried to her desk. She drew a fresh piece of paper from the stack, and spent the next 20 minutes drawing. When she was satisfied with that she had created, she folded the paper and put it in her purse. She checked the bus schedule pinned to the wall, then hurried from the apartment.
♪
Kat returned to her apartment alone after the movie. David had wanted to come up, but she’d pulled the ‘I have a headache’ bit and told him she’d see him tomorrow. She went into the bathroom and removed her shirt.
A bandage covered a patch below her belly button. I’m running out of skin, she thought. Any lower and that old man will probably have a heart attack.
She gently peeled the bandage back to reveal a fresh tattoo. A bird, wings spread wide, but with several feathers falling from its tail. Lettering encircled the figure. Satisfied, she replaced the bandage. She finished undressing and climbed into bed, but sleep was a long time coming.
♪
The next morning, she awoke and rushed to turn on the television. Charlie Gibson was interviewing some stupid actor. She looked at the clock, and remembered that they only did ‘real’ news on the half-hour. She went into the kitchen and fixed a bowl of cereal, and then sat down to wait for the news.
The lead story was about the Middle East, as usual, but her heart started racing when a graphic of an airplane appeared over the news anchor’s shoulder.
“In other news this morning, 37 people, including virtuoso pianist Dominic Patrovanni, were killed when American Eagle Flight #73 crashed on take-off last night. NTSB investigators are on the scene at JFK airport in New York, but have not made a determination as yet, although they are ruling out terrorism as a cause of the crash. Surveillance video cameras captured the accident. It appears as if the tail structure of the aircraft broke away as it took off, resulting in immediate and catastrophic loss of control.”
A knock at the door startled her. Eyes glued to the screen, she opened the door.
“Kat, turn on the news. You won’t believe it.” David’s voice was agitated.
“Yeah, I just saw. I wonder if they’re going to postpone the competition?” Kat said.
“That’s pretty cold, Kat. I know you didn’t like the guy, but you had to appreciate his music. “
“I feel sorry for the other people on the plane, but not him.”
David stared at her.
“I’m going to take a shower. If the phone rings, answer it. It may be the competition committee.” Kat went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Still aghast at her callous reaction, David sat on the sofa. The phone rang, and he picked up the handset.
“Hello?” he said.
“May I speak to Ms. Ito, please?” said the voice on the other end.
“I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message for her?” David replied.
“If you would, please. My name is Angela Dubios. I’m one of the judges for the classical piano competition. Could you please tell Ms. Ito that the competition will go on Saturday as scheduled. The committee felt that it’s what Mr. Patrovanni would have wanted. Also, we felt it would be a hardship for all the performers to have to reschedule at this late date. Please have her call me at 555-0219 if she has any questions.”
“I’ll be sure to give her the message. Thank you.” David said, and hung up the phone. David grabbed a pencil from the table, but didn’t anything to write on. Looking around, he saw a piece of paper sticking out of Kat’s purse.
David pulled the paper free. He started to write when he realized it was a folded-up sketch. He opened it, not wanting to ruin one of Kat’s drawings.
He looked at the picture of the eagle, it’s tail feathers fluttering. Odd, he thought, and was about to look for something else to write on when he heard the newscaster repeat the words “American Eagle”. He looked at the screen, where they were showing the video of the plane crash again, and then back at the sketch. (Picture #1)
He was still staring at the drawing when he heard the bathroom door open. He looked up. Kat stood across the room, towel covering her wet body. She looked at the paper in his hands, horrified. David stared back, unable to believe what he was thinking.
He lunged across the room and yanked the towel from her. She stood their naked as he gazed at the fresh eagle tattoo, the original still clutched in his hand.
“The eagle. The burning hands. Jesus, the water around the tattoo of your parents? What the hell is did you do?”
Kat shook herself from her daze and grabbed the towel back from David and covered herself.
“Come on, David. They’re just pictures. You can’t believe I had anything to do with a plane crash, can you?”
“What about Samantha? Was that an accident too”
“What else could it be? A roomful of people saw her shove her hands in the furnace. I wasn’t even in the room. How could I be responsible for that?”
“I don’t know. You can’t be. But it can’t all be a coincidence. What about your other tattoos? Are they all like this? Some twisted make-a-wish fantasy?”
David stood and walked to the door.
“David, don’t go. Don’t leave. It’s not what you think. It’s just the way I deal with things. I got the burning hands tattoo the day after Samantha’s accident.”
“What about the eagle?”
“I was up all night, I couldn’t sleep. I saw the news about the plane crash on CNN in the middle of the night. The guy that does my ink is open at weird hours.” The excuses sounded hollow even to Kat.
“And what about the one of your parents?”
“I got that after they died, as a way to remember them. That’s all, the waves were just my own sick way of dealing with the accident.”
“The first night we were together, you told me you had it before they died, that you had to hide it from them. “
“I meant I would have had to hide it from them.” Kat stammered. “I swear, I got it after they died.”
David looked at her, and she looked away. He shook his head and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.
Kat collaped on the sofa, sobbing loudly. For an hour, she didn’t move, until finally her tears ran dry. Numb, she walked into the bedroom and dressed. She returned to the living room and sat at the desk. She pulled a sheet of paper from the stack, and began drawing.
♪
That afternoon, she called David on the phone. She let it ring a dozen times, but there was no answer. She remembered that David had Caller-ID, and could picture him looking at the display, waiting for her to hang up.
She hung up, and immediately re-dialed his number. This time, the answering machine kicked on.
“David, please. I’m so sorry. I can’t explain why I did these things, or how. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just wanted to be the best. That’s all I ever wanted, ever since I was a little girl. Everything I’ve done has been because of that.”
“I’m sorry, David. But I promise, I promise, it will never happen again. I love you, David. I’m sorry. Good bye.”
♪
David played the message back for the fifth time. The way her voice sounded worried him. It sounded like the voice of someone who was already dead. He called her back, but got no answer.
He rushed from the apartment, and sprinted the six blocks that separated his place from hers. Taking the stairs two at a time, he charged up to her door and started pounding on it.
“Come on, Kat, open the door. Let’s talk about this.”
The door across the hall from Kat’s opened, and a stoned-looking college student poked his head out.
“I don’t think she’s home, dude. She left a half-hour ago. Said something about one last session with the piano.”
David thanked him and started back down the stairs. She must be at the auditorium, he reasoned. He hurried downstairs and took off towards campus. He and Kat had both taken apartments close to the auditorium, and he was grateful he’d not have to cross the entire campus to get there.
As David approached the hall, he saw that a large crowd had gathered. A ribbon of yellow tape kept the crowd off the grass and on the sidewalk in front. A large crane was slowly hoisting a piano skyward. One of the large windows that lined the practice room had been removed, and David realized that it must be easier to lift the heavy equipment in than try to maneuver it up the spiral staircase that led to the room.
The wind had picked up, and the piano swung alarmingly. David approached as closely as he could, and he heard the workmen discussing whether or not to put the instrument down and try again later.
He caught a disturbance out of the corner of his eye, and his heart froze as he saw Kat breaking through the cordon.
“Kat! No, get out of there!” he shouted.
Kat didn’t seem to hear him. She ran until she was directly under the dangling piano, oblivious to the shouted warnings of the workmen as well.
Adrenaline pounding, David pushed to the front of the crowd and ducked under the tape.
“Hey, buddy, get back here” yelled the foreman.
A snapping sound echoed above him, and David could see the wire split. With a burst of speed, he reached Kat and shoved her as hard as he could. She flew off of her feet and landed several feet away, the breath knocked out of her. David stumbled and fell to his knees.
The sound of the wire breaking was accompanied by the screams of the crows, and David only had time to realize that Kat was safe before the plummeting piano crushed him. (Picture #4)
♪
Kat opened the door to her apartment. She was exhausted. It had been almost 24 hours since she’d slept, and she’d spent every minute since David had been killed answering questions, first with the police, and then at the hospital with a shrink. Somehow she’d managed to convince them that she’d just gone to see the new piano, and hadn’t heard the warnings, that she hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt.
Numb, she went into the bathroom and undressed. She stared into the mirror, gazing at the rough tattoo she’d carved onto her chest after David had left. It was raw and bloody, but it was obviously a crude piano, encircled by a piece of rope tattered at one end.
Crying silently, she got dressed again and left the bathroom. She turned on the desk lamp and sat, staring at a blank sheet of paper. She couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t think of any fate terrible enough for what she’d done. She looked at the wall behind the desk, a sob escaping as she saw the picture of David she’d drawn. Then her eyes were drawn to the blank spot next to it, and she knew what she was going to do.
Kat rummaged through the garbage can, looking for the sketch she had thrown away until at last she found the crumpled paper. She unfolded it and smoothed it on the surface of the desk. It was the picture of the monster that haunted her nightmares, the tentacle-shrouded horror that had been her constant companion since the death of her parents. She re-folded it carefully and placed it in her pocket. She pulled her bus pass from her pocketbook, and headed downstairs.
♪
That night, Kat lay in bed. Her sketch of David lay on the pillow beside her head. All the lights in the apartment were out, but the dim glow of the streetlights turned the bedroom into a forest of shadows. Heart pounding as if it were about to burst from her chest, she closed her eyes and waited.
A wet, slithering sound, like seaweed dragged across a sandy beach, came from the living room. She gasped and her eyes flew open. A putrid stench invaded the room, dead fish drenched in rotten eggs. How her soul would smell, she thought. The shadows at the foot of the bed slowly solidified, and Kat screamed as the creature enveloped her. (Picture #5)
I'm looking forward to reading your story, and I'm already curious where the profanity filter kicked in 
