Model

The chilling white walls seemed to loudly protest against Evil's black figure. He was naked saved for the legs that crossed over his private area. His eyes looked engraved in in his already hollowed face. I avoided talking to him for his voice was the exact opposite of his appearance, smooth like milky silk and sliding over my skin- it freaked me out.

I was thankful though, because I didn't have to talk to Evil at all. Instead I looked down on my sketch pad and quickly placed a few thoughtless lines. My eyes would only rest on my sinned model for a few seconds before looking down again.

"May I see it now?" He asked me. His voice slithered like snakes and I was glad the sketch pad was big enough to cover my shiver.

"No-Not yet," I said. I took a few more swipes at my sketch pad, "I have the rough draft finished."

Evil made a noise of amusement. I found nothing amusing at all. Taking one look at my sketch, I didn't even notice his presence next to me until his fingers captured mine.

"How you find meaning in such messy lines," Evil tisked at me. Quickly, with his other hand he shredded the paper, "Start over."

I started to the white floor in blind anger. Then, Evil swiftly turned away and walked back to the stool. He leaned on it, draped his feet over the edge and flexed the other. It amazed how well he kept balanced when everything in the room seemed to be in such disorganized fashion. There were already a corpse of papers to the corner of the room. Like a graveyard there were also scribbled names and dates all over the white room.

"Late artists," Evil told me at the beginning. He waved his hands, "Some were brilliant but in the end they all were erased. You know artists often get so involved with creating they forget what was initially drawn?"

At the time I was naive and hopeful, so I simply agreed before Evil led me into the white room.

Now I don't know how much time has passed. It seemed like the chalk I was given was still as new. In contrast my hair was beginning to clump into large, greasy strands and my body was beginning to smell. The trash in the corner was rotting and the walls seemed to be chipping. Actually it seemed everything was rotting except for him. Evil was still as black and melting as when he first stepped foot in the room. He was sickened looking, but that was how he came to be and no room nor time has changed that.

"An apple for your thoughts?" He smiled. He was teasing me now but I simply pretended to be engrossed with my drawing.

I drew the curve of his calve, leaned back, and went back in to darken the area.

"You are still not doing those "rough sketches" are you?" He asked. Evil groaned and stretched out his limbs, "Amateur artist."

"I understand them," I said immediately.

Evil stopped stretching and I stopped breathing. He was looking at me with his hollow eyes now. Did he grow bigger? I couldn't tell. I've looked at him for what seemed like eternity that his form became a blur to me.

"Rubbish," He said finally. Evil got off his high chair, however still retaining his pride, and rudely brushed pass me.

I followed him to the corner of the room where he picked the rejected sketch papers. They were dusty in his hands and smelled of ancient history. Forcefully he shoved them in my hands.

Evil said smoothly, "I've known that artists like to keep their stations messy. Because the mess is not a mess at all but a blue print only they can understand. Tell me artist, what do these drawings looks like?"

Flashing the drawings, I looked almost impatiently at my previous works.

Then I went blank.

The drawings weren't mine at all! That's what I thought. I recognized the conteur lines immediately as my own strokes, but never, would I make such mistakes on a person traits.

"What is this?" I asked incredulously, "A joke? The man in these drawings look completely different than how you do!"

Evil held no triumphant smile, "I have not altered nor exchanged these drawings. If you remember," He held open a paper, "You drew this not too long ago."

I snatched the drawings and scanned it. The nose was off, the eyes were completely different. The anatomy was correct, everything was correct. It didn't look like I made a simple error, instead it was as though I was sketching a completely different being. Scanning, the rest, I didn't realize how long I was scanning my drawings until my leg became numb. I brushed off the feeling and instead looked through the other pile of rejected sketches.

Evil sat off to the side and watched me scan my mistakes with uninterested eyes.

"Gawking at your miskates like a prideful fool," Evil shook his head, "It will be the end of time before you illustrate me at this rate."

"I learn from my mistakes!" I snap. Picking up the papers with one hand I angrily strode towards him, "To be perfect you must learn from your mistakes and try again!"

A pale hand shot out to mine and held me firmly in place. My eyes followed this pale arm to withery blonde hair and cold red eyes. This person's face was perfect and very much different from Evil before but his voice still danced on my skin.

"You must live a very sad life," Evil said, "To keep looking back on your regrets like you do."

I was still in awe at his almost holy appearance, and in a soft voice asked, "Have you... always looked like this?"

Evil looked at me with regarding eyes. Placing on thoughtful fist under his chin and the other resting on his thigh, he just stared at me. Then finally after what seemed like a year had passed he gave me an answer.

"No," He replied, "When we first entered his room my hair was a flame with ginger and dusted with dots. At one time I recall being golden with raven lockes."

My eyes were huge. Evil seemed to notice this and shook his head smiling.

"You don't believe me?" He asked.

"O-Of course not!" I screamed, "I've been locked in here with you f-for I don't even know how long! How can you possibly be changing forms all the time without me noticing?! I am always watching you!" I walked to the sketches and threw them about, "I am always watching you! I know your every curve- your every habit! I know you!" I walked to him, "And I have never once left you out of my sight."

Looking at me, Evil shook his head. He towered over me and kept walking until I was cornered, "Yes you were always watching me weren't you? Your drawings were all very correct concerning anatomy and you most likely improved your skills ten fold since sketching me day after day."

He rested his hands on either side of my face. Evil leaned forward, with his red eyes digging into mine he said, "But I am watching you too. No I am not watching your body or the way you move. Little artist, I am watching you. That is the difference artist. Don't you remember what I told you earlier. No I don't think you did. Let me tell you something artist," He whispered in my mind, "So caught up in the fine details and precious techniques you learn in art school that you forgot to illustrate me- Evil."

Evil backed off, letting me breath again. He took a pale finger and nipped my greasy hair and said, "You still have much to learn arist. Come, let's continue our session now."

I grabbed onto my rejected sketches and looked at Evil with such pained eyes. He stopped walking then and turned to me. With one stride he ripped the papers from my hands. Immediately I looked to my other sketches. Evil followed my eye and walked to the rest of the pile. He took one paper and instantly lit it on fire. The blue flame erupted from his hand like a volcano and swallowed the sketch like quicksand.

"No..." I whispered. Evil disregarded me and continued to inflame another sketch, "No!!! Stop!!!"

Rushing I dove into the pile of past mistakes and held the sketches protectively. Evil didn't say anything instead wringing my arm and inflaming the loose papers.

"Stop it!" I screamed, "Stop destroying it! I'll illustrate you! I'll draw you however you want me too!"

He threw me off this time. I managed to rip a few sketches from his grip. Evil turned around and with one wave of his hand the entire pile melted into flames. The stench that hung in the air smelled like corpses and immediately I turned to vomit.

The shadow that hung over me was Evil. He was coolly raking his eyes over me.

"Wh-Why," I gasped, "I need those to imrpove! I- I can-"

"Enough," He snapped. Evil angrily walked towards me. With each step I felt the room crack. Then, I was feeling very faint. My eyes looked over where my sketches burned. I realized then with each paper going into ashes I felt a part of me forget.

Evil was closer.

He was so close I could smell his rotting flesh. His eyes were coiled out of his head like snakes and the once pale skin I saw was cracking. With each skin flake that fell I heard a scream and then another scream. Each step Evil took was stiff like a doll's but his angry face remained the same. He was so angry at me. I could feel it roll over my like a giant wave.

The fire was so big now and I grabbed my head screaming.

It was silent.

Then warm arms enveloped me and I felt my mother's face caress mine. She held me close to her beating heart. I closed my eyes. Yes, she was warm. Like how I always remembered her to be. My arms circled around her lower back as she rubbed her cheek soothingly on my head.

"You don't need the past," She said, "You have me now."

Was she always this warm? My eyes felt dead and all of the sudden I was so tired. It was then I noticed a flame burning in the corner of the room. The smell was sharp in the air, so that I buried my face in my mother's lap.

"What's that flame mum?" I asked weakly.

She stroke my head, "That will soon be nothing dear. Soon it will all be erased and you will be mine."

I looked up and noticed a sketch pad in the middle of the room. Crawling I took the drawing pad and eagerly placed it on both my mother and my lap.

"Look what I found!" I said happily.

"Why don't you draw something dearest?" She asked me, "Draw mother something."

All of the sudden I felt very sad and I hugged the sketch pad to my face, "But I don't know how to draw," I moped, "I'm not a very good artist at all."

"Nonsense," Mother said. She kissed me warmly on my cheek, "They say the best artists are children you know."

I cocked my head, "Why is that mother?"

Mother looked at me with her beaufitul face. It was so warm and inviting that I forgot about the fire in the corner of the room.

"It's because," Mother answered, "Children have no restrictions and can draw without fear of messing up."

Feeling like somehow I had super powers I held the sketch book proudly above my head, "Okay! Then what should I draw first mother?"

And her skin melted away to a person whose figure echoed his slitherly, beckoning voice.

"Draw me."

...Evil is Man.