3/31/10
Invitation to Chill
By Amanda Lawrence Auverigne


Angela sipped at her wine while she stared at the large painting in front of her.

“So, you call this art?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, its art.” May said with a nod of her head.

May lowered her glass of wine from her lips while she gazed at the tortured face of the half naked woman in the large portrait.

“Its torture porn.” Angela stated.

“Actually, its life.” A low voice said.

Angela and May turned around and they saw a tall dark haired man standing behind them.

The handsome man was dressed in an expertly tailored suit of dark cloth. He held a glass of red wine in his left hand.

“You’re the artist right?” Angela inquired.

“Yes.” The dark haired man replied.

He lowered the clear chalice in his grasp and he thrust his pale hand in May’s direction with a cordial smile.

“Just call me Arthur.” The handsome man stated.

“Oh, hello.” May said softly.

May took the young man’s hand. She shook it gently and she quickly released her grasp on his alabaster limb.

“I’m May and this is my friend Angela.” May stated.

Angela took a step forward and she grabbed Arthur’s hand. She shook the young man’s limb vigorously with a vibrant chortle.

“Charmed.” Angela said.

Arthur laughed politely before he snatched his hand from Angela’s viselike grasp.

“Yes, so do any of the portraits interest you?” Arthur inquired.

“No.” Angela replied.

“Well, I was looking at this one.” May said quickly.

“You’re not gonna buy that one are you? Just look at the poor girl’s face. You’ll have nightmares for weeks.” Angela said.

“Ah, Encased in Flames. A few of the visitors here have expressed interest in that one.” Arthur stated.

“Is that’s what swirling all around her? I thought it was blood.” Angela said.

“Has anyone made you an offer?” May asked.

“Not one that’s interested me.” Arthur replied.

“Oh, brother. May, I’ll be over there by the painting of the guy with no head who’s shaving.” Angela said.

“That one’s sold.” Arthur stated.

“Dang.” Angela said with a lively snap of her fingers.

“Is she always this sarcastic, or is she putting on a show for me?” Arthur inquired.

“It’s the way she is.” May said with a laugh.

“So, are you interested?” Arthur asked.

“The painting?” May inquired.

“No, in me.” Arthur said.

“Uh. Well I uh.” May stammered.

Arthur reached inside his jacket and he pulled out a card.

“Here’s my card. Feel free to give me a call when you’ve decided what you want.” Arthur said.

May raised her hand and she took the card from Arthur’s grasp.

“Good evening ladies. Meeting you was indeed a pleasure.” Arthur stated.

Arthur gazed at May for a brief moment before he turned away from her and walked across the sparsely populated chamber.

The handsome man paused near an elderly couple who stood in front of an oval shaped portrait that hung suspended from the ceiling with thin wires.

Arthur gazed at the hovering artwork for a few moments before he turned to the smiling couple and spoke to them in hushed tones.

“Well, he’s had a few concubines in his time. But he’s weird in a sensual tie you up and chop you up killer kind of way.” Angela said.

“He is not a killer. He just uses his art to tap into his dark side.” May stated.

“Yeah, like tapping into somebody’s vein and watching all of their blood gush out. Hey, do you think he mixes real blood with his paints?” Angela asked.

“If he did, the colors in his work would not be as vibrant as they are.” May replied.

“Speculating on someone being a serial killer is no fun with you.” Angela said.

“Sorry.” May apologized.

May raised the card in her hand and she stared at the raised gold lettering across the front. She gazed at the lower portion of the stark white object and she saw several shimmering spots of scarlet along the side.

Angela sipped at her wine while she stared at the business card in May’s grasp.

“Cool card though. Oooh, the letters are all embossed. Wait, what is that stuff on it? Is that blood?” Angela asked.

May rubbed her index finger along the crimson stain. She pulled her hand away from the spots and she saw small dots of scarlet glitter atop her digit.

“Its dye with glitter in it.” May said.

“Oh, the killer’s got jokes. So, are you gonna call him or what?” Angela asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”


- - -
Amanda Lawrence Auverigne writes fiction. She lives in the United States and she currently resides in a century old mansion.
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