Stroke of Red

The artist tilts her head. She swivels around her canvas to gaze at her subject and then paints a stroke of red.

Nodding to herself satisfied with her work, she swipes another curve.

It becomes difficult for her to drag her eyes away her muse, completely entranced by the woman before her.

The artist needs to get every detail correct. Her shiny blonde hair neatly styled in beautiful waves. The wide, glazed over green eyes that reminds the artist of the forest. A sleek blue crop top and shorts set adorns her curvy body.

Her favorite part of her subject?

The blood dripping from her perfectly plump lips. Droplets dropping onto the pronounced skin on her collarbone, standing out pale skin. The red pooling on her stomach, creeping into the blue hue of the clothes. The awkward angle of her limbs. The matted, bloody hair on the left side of her head.

She loves all of it.

She gets like this. Totally obsessed for a while and then she paints them and then it’s done. Free to move on to her next one.

Finishing up some last few details, she stands back and smiles softly at her artwork. It’s perfect.

As she waits for it to dry, she appreciates her muse one last time, and once it is able to be touched, she knows it is time.

Letting out a sigh of relief that this obsession can be over, she picks up the painting and adds it to her collection.

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