A Pictures Worth a Thousand Screams
"Let me go!" "Please!" "Mercy!" "I'll do anything!"
I love it when they scream like that! Really, it's almost as if my art thinks that it will be freed. However, first things first! Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Bradley. Bradley Denney, that is. And, I am (if you haven't noticed) an artist, photographer if you'd like to get technical.
I find it amusing that my artwork used to sell so easily before the people finally realized what they were looking at. I never use cheap tricks, all my photography is genuine in nature. However, I do change the faces of the models slightly. It's merely a matter of precaution.
For example, let us begin with one of my many masterpieces of which bore the simplistic name of Blood Bath. The picture focuses in on a beautiful woman (or rather girl, for I don't believe that she was actually over eighteen) taking a bath. Her paled head lays gently upon the blue tile of the bathroom wall behind her. An arm rests along the side in a manner that appears to draw in the viewer's eye and draw them straight to her breasts.
The breasts of which are placed above the surface so as to allow those with more a taste for the nudity in art than the art to enjoy as well. Across those very breasts is carved, into the flesh, the very initials of which can be found upon all of my art. My own signature of sorts, for my name in the art world was no more than that of "BD, the Black Death."
The blood trickling from the letters, though, is by far not the only bit of blood present within the photograph. You see, she lays entirely in a pool of blood. Before you wonder, know… it isn't entirely her own. A few models from my other pictures felt the joy of assisting with not only their own pictures, but Blood Bath as well. I find such very sweet of them, true art-lovers!
The girl (whose name I do believe to be that of Veronica) suffered a bit more for the sake of art. Within the photograph, a good portion of her pretty face is missing. Fragments of bone matter as well as brains can be seen within the bathtub, and in the girls other hand happens to be the weapon used to create such a splendid effect. The quaint device that bares the three-letter name of a gun is pressed just above her breasts, held there by the girls own hand. I did have to get a bit of work to get her arm to lay just right so that the pose was correct, but aside from that minor detail I really thought the picture turned out quite nice.
The gothic side of the community liked it, nay adored it. It sold like no other to them, and really there are so many of the sort to be found in the art-society now-a-days. I really can't blame them for having such wonderful taste. My second best seller to that crowd was a picture I took of my darling little sister. She wasn't dead like most are in my pictures. In fact, she was quite alive. I felt the touch seemed to bring the picture to life as well. It bore the title of I Was Watching You. It was beyond the point of fitting.
My angelic sister's name is that of Mary. I wouldn't however call her the greatest saint in the bunch, however. She managed to stumble in during one of my photo-shoots. She practically volunteered to be a model for me. She always did want to be famous after all.
The artwork in which she's featured focuses in upon her bright blue eyes, grayed over and blood-shot. The eyes show that fear and pain of which I'm quite she must have been experiencing at the time. For, the other two people pictured would be the reasons for this.
I managed to get two of my other models (with some friendly manipulation, of course) to bite down upon both of her eyelids and pull them back. This making for the interest of the picture. The teeth and eyelids being stretched, despite being upon the upper and lower sections of the picture, managed to be exactly what made the picture sell. That, and the mere look given off from Mary's scared, little eye.
It was that very picture, sadly enough, that managed to get me caught. Mary's disappearance obviously went noticed by my family. Usually they didn't attend to my art shows, and of course the one in which I Was Watching You happened to be showcased also happened to be the one they decided to go to. Mary's eye seemed far to similar, and I immediately got questioning.
What I find great is, even though my story didn't really flourish too well, my art did.
My art lives on, as a reminder. It's sad that a genius is rarely appreciated in their own time. Someone will love my art again, it'll just take some time. Once that happens, I'll never be going away.
In the end of the game, I'll be everlasting.