Last Artistic Piece
October 1st, 2014
Just a small distance away from the populated beach area of Bournemouth, England...
A thin man walks around a poorly lighten house, for such a gloomy written day. His body moving towards the medicine cabinet that's located in the bathroom. He doesn't flip the switch to give light to the tiny dark space. Instead he reaches out for the cabinet door to grab the plastic orange tinted container and pours a good amount of its contents into his hand. The tiny capsules falling into his mouth one by one before swallowing it all in a thickly dry gulp. The man clears his throat a bit after a minute of making sure it went done completely before leaving the bathroom. He takes a slow stride towards the front door of his home. Grabbing a basket full of tools for carving into something of wood as he makes his trek to the outside. When the man opens the front door to be greeted with cloud light, a slightly better lighting then he had before. It brightens his face to reveal that of an Englishman with shaggy sand blonde hair and light green eyes. He's known as Arthur Kirkland.
Arthur walks on down to the beach with no other human eyes, but his own watching. This place is more privately set for residence and each home is of a good distance away do to the dense woods all around. The blonde headed man walks right up to a statue that leave a trail up from his home as if it were dragged down not long ago. A determination to complete this art piece before him pushes him into work. His hands stripping away wood for realistic details. The shavings and dust all falling onto the foundation of the sculpture. Arthur continues to push his arms forward and dig away at the material. His body aching, but his spirits high as the minutes tick away to seconds. He steps back to analyze his work. Taking in every single area until he realizes that there's one piece missing. He hurries back to his home which is a good distance away for him to mentally slap himself for not remembering to retrieve it. The medicine making it hard to quickly make his way up the beach.
The sculpture sits there in wait for its creator to return. It being a remarkable look-a-like to the creator himself. The wooden platform being about two feet in both length and width. The height on the base being 18 inches high. The stationary man sitting down in the center of the base with one leg hanging of the edge and barely hovering over the sand; the other bent and brought up to his chest. His gaze towards the salty ocean. The eyes of the sculpture a void of etched emotions untold to another ears.
The Englishman arrives back and places a journal he just fetched within the small open space of where the statues arms are. The journal opened to a rather blank page except for the date scribbled quickly in cursive on the top right corner of the page. It has today's date of complexion. Where the journal lays, right on the left palm of the sculpture with a carved pencil in the right hand looming over the unwritten page. Words that will never fill it again. Arthur smiles to himself with tired eyes. Faintly speaking out a few words.
"Finally it's complete... my last artistic piece..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Past~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
July 5th, 2014
The skies have been rather bleak in Bournemouth, England. The early morning skies reveals a rather calm ocean with small crashing washes along the shoreline and seagulls squawk around in the sky. A grey beach house is sat upon the green mount above the beach. The house is shared by an American and English man. A mailbox having the names 'Jones and Kirkland' painted onto its side. Currently filling the house with heavy moans.
In the bedroom, two early twenty's men entangled together in bed. Their bodies laced with each others sweat. The Englishman riding on top of the American's cock. Panting with a dry mouth as he keeps up his fast pace. His hands placing a bit of weight on the man named Alfred or fully dubbed as Alfred F. Jones. Alfred looks up at Arthur with bright blue eyes; filled with endless lust. The American's hands gripping the Englishman's hips to keep him in place. When Alfred feels himself growing closer to release, his left hand lets go of Arthur's hip and takes hold his swollen member. A steady pace is rubbed over the organ to help the Arthur cum sooner. If possible, the Brits whimpered moans grow a bit louder as he calls Alfred's name repeatedly. Arthur's pace becomes sloppy as he can barely keep himself up anymore as he seed gushes out and onto the American's hand and chest. A cry of incredible pleasure washes the room. Arthur falls right onto Alfred's chest with heavy breathing. He was about to tell Alfred something before he was thrust into again causing a some what low squeak to slip out from Arthur's mouth. He had clearly forgotten about Alfred not releasing yet as he see's the greed within those deep blue eyes. The American's hands forcing Arthur's hips down onto his groin quickly, only to make Arthur groan out that he had just came and was sensitive. The American having none of it as he keeps going. His final cry's no less than a minute later. The warm liquid leaking into Arthur's insides. Alfred pulls out his flaccid cock and the liquid slowly seeps out from Arthur. The American's arms resting around Arthur's waist. The two men comfortably laying there in each others arms.
They soon start talking of the weather. Arthur's voiced tinted with worry. "The news has been calling for a huge storm that will be hitting here in a few day or so. Are you are you want to go on that boating expedition now?"
"Of course I do babe! No storm can stop me!"
"Alfred. Your not superman. Your human. If the storm hits while your out th-... "
"I know Arthur, but its my decision to make. I'll be fine like I always am! Alfred's smile is too huge to be deflated. "Anyway, how about you worry about making me something special to have when I comes back." Arthur rolls his eyes saying, "I haven't felt inspired to do any type of art piece for so long now Alfred. I don't think I have the talent to do anything now."
"Come on! Pleeeeaaassseeeee~?" Alfred insists on it just continues, long and drawn out.
"Arthur hesitates, "Maybe..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Little Bit Later That Day~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The two are clean and ready for the day. Alfred's bags all packed to go for the week. Arthur drives Alfred down towards the boating docks to wave him off. When the boat sails off with a happy American waving goodbye to him. It strikes Arthur's heart with uncertainty for some reason. He waves his final goodbyes until he barely can make anything of the boat. He turns and walks back to the car. The brewing of dark clouds in the very far off distance of the ocean line up the horizon as Arthur drives home.
A couple of days later, a heavy storms swallows up the light of day and causes destruction over the calm ocean waves. Arthur watches with worry from his living room as water crashes onto the shore and the local news having no reports of the Alfred's boat. Arthur stays awake with a silent pray that Alfred will be alright, but soon sleep takes hold of him. The next morning comes and Arthur awakes from his unwanted slumber. His eyes go huge as it falls onto the monitor of the television. The wreckage of a boat is shown. No not any boat. Its Alfred's boat that he saw sail off the previous mornings ago. The news reporter voice seems to drown out as the small words at the bottom of the screen says no known survivors. The world seems to shut off for Arthur at that point.
Only ache is in his heart. An ache that has been there for two complete weeks now. Arthur's head swelled with unrealistic ideas that what happened was all, but a dream, but sadly it wasn't. Soon after a delusion that Alfred was alive and had survive the storm came. It's even sadder when you know your telling yourself lies to get you through the day. His family and friends wanting to help, but are pushed away. Being in solitude is his only ability not to break down and be forced to move on from the fact that his lover is gone. His best friend that he has known since the first year of high school is gone by the unforgiving seas. The therapist he goes to see, prescribes him medicine to help him after awhile of not getting over the incident. He knows their anti-depressants and he knows that he's fallen into a dark hole, but all he want is that smile. The one that becomes touchable within his head again or for it to at least fade away, so he may forget that he ever had a heart. That seems highly unlikely now as there last conversations run through his mind. Suddenly remembering Alfred's last request he had given him. To make him something just for him for when he comes back.
His lips trembles, but he bites down on his it to stop the burning tears on the edge of his lower eyelids from falling. He wants to complete Alfreds last request with all his being, but he has no clue on how its possible since he has no inspiration or knowing that Alfred will never see it drives him to more pain. His eyes looking over the ocean and then traveling up the beach to his feet. His half lidded eyes open fully. A spark of a tiny thought enters his brain. His inspiration. He will definitely make sure Alfred sees it because his angelic eyes are never far from him. He will be his gift to Alfred.
A month had passed since the tragic event and Arthur hadn't stopped yet. His arms every day soar from the last, but doesn't plan to quite yet. As every day passes a new piece to his sculpture is made. Making the piece out of wood from a birch tree. Every few days having to return to the hardware shop and collect more material. Its inevitable however that he had to stop every now and then to eat and sleep. Given other tasks here and there. His doctor giving him anxiety relief medication from all the stress he'd placed on his body. His health deteriorating. That doesn't matter to him anymore though. The sculpture he'd been building grows little by little everyday when he forgets about the rest of his life. The smooth light wood being dwindled away into his own form. And as he works on the piece, all he can think of is the reason he is doing this.
He thinks of old memories with his beloved that are written down in his old journal that he reflects with both words and drawings. The good and the bad all fill the pages. Just recently thinking of the times when Alfred would want him to go with him on his morning runs along the shore. Himself never being the greatest at physical activity such as cardio, but he would do it for Alfred. As away to shut him up. Well he would try at least as he was usually 30 feet away trying to catch up to the laughing imbecile that would jog around him every five minutes to just mock him.
All he could do then was pant out pathetic yells of his wrath that he'll bestow upon the American but now... now all he can do is smile at the memory. Those are good memories because he was with Alfred then, alive and happy.
Another few weeks pass on. His masterpiece is almost complete. The very essence of it describes how tired and even how close to release from this world Arthur feels now. He thinks to himself within his head how he sees glimpses of a shadow every now and then. Just thinking it over as sleep deprivation is getting to him. Even though it has a rather familiar silhouette to it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/p
Present Day
Arthur finishes up the sculpture and leaving quickly inside the house. Looking around in his dusty room to collect his journal. He try's his best to run back outside noticing another shadowy figure catching a glimpse of his eyes, but he ignores it. He places the book down between the gap of the hands.
"Finally it's complete... my last artistic piece..."
He sits down on the sandy floor. Leaning up against the sculpture. His body heavy and he feels his heart slowing down to a halt. He smiles a bit as his remaining thoughts are seeing Alfred's gorgeous smile again. He closes his eyes and the world goes dark for his final time in this life.
He reawakens to that of a brighter scene. A scene wear a familiar smile meets his gaze and the shadowy outline of that person is finally shown. His heart swelling up with a new emotion of final peace. Leaving one life for the next now.
((I'm sorry its been so long... I need to get the hang of writing again. I'll try to post something else tomorrow with a bit more information on what I'll be working on in the future. Stay healthy and happy~!))