Jack looked at his handiwork, hanging from the wall. Two people, one man, one woman, both naked, both posed where he wanted them. He wondered if the wall was more alive than them. He carefully checked the wall for damage and stains. “Can’t have those. They’ll ruin the scene.” He quickly wiped away any bloodstains he spotted on the wall.
Things had gotten easier, with time. He’d run out of nails, and glue when had made his first masterpiece, it took more than he expected to get their poses right. Of course he had pictures of them. He had pictures of all his work. This was his fourth masterpiece. It wouldn’t be his last, there were others to create. There were so many possible ways to pose two naked bodies.
“They wonder why I use bodies, I know,” Jack spoke quietly to the couple in his latest masterpiece. “Because bodies are more realistic than paint, or clay.” He adjusted the woman’s hair, carefully brushing it out of her eyes, then adding more hairspray to hold it in place. He checked their body positions, making certain their body parts fit together properly. The woman on her back, stuck to the wall, her legs jutting out. The man between her legs, his hips thrust forward.
“I really must find a better way to keep them in place,” he shook his head, looking at the strips of wood, tied to their limbs, holding their arms and legs in their eternal poses. “One that doesn’t show as much in the pictures.”
Jack took pictures from every angle. Shots of body parts, and full body shots. “It’s important to capture both the details, and the entire picture.” He stopped several times, to adjust details in the poses, “There, that’s better.” And he resumed taking pictures. “That should be enough.” He shut his camera off. “See, Mother? I am an artist. You said I wasn’t. You said I’d never be good at anything.” He pulled a faded picture of his mother from his camera bag, and faced it at the bodies. “See, Mother? See? I make beautiful works of art, don’t I.” He carefully placed the picture in his camera bag.
He made certain the curtains to the room were open, so the world would see his work when the sun rose. Then, he turned out the lights, and headed home. He locked the room as he left, and carefully placed a small, wooden plaque on the door. “Buena #4,” he read the plaque, “The fourth in a series of masterpieces.”
He smiled as he walked the hallways, to the stairs, then the building’s exit. “It was Buena, indeed. I wish everyone could see that. Could understand that.” He sighed. “I do good work!”
Jack went home, and used all his hot water in the shower. If felt good to let the heat soak into his shoulders and neck. He could feel his muscles relax. He ate a small breakfast, and washed it down with a glass of orange juice, the kind with pulp. Real juice. Not that processed crap. Then, he stretched out in his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he started planning the body positioning of the couple for Buena #5. “It will be my greatest work.”
Jack slept well that night.