Story: A Crafted Masterpiece

Uncertain's picture

A Crafted Masterpiece
07-05-07

“Splendid!” cheered Carter in abrupt and excited approval.

That evening for the first time in his life, as he caressed the slender figure of her body, he felt at one with her. Yes, this is the one he is searching for. Time seemed to cease except for the black and white television that played faintly in the background.

“So that’s a deal?” a coarse voice injected itself into the chemistry that was happening. He wore a tuxedo, very business-like, charismatic. You couldn’t tell he was aging if it wasn’t for his receding temples.

“Of course! That woman is beautiful!” and by woman Carter pointed gaily at a figure that was carefully crafted. It was a mannequin.
“Oh every breath I take seems to give her more and more life…” he let those words sit as he adjusted his collar, “how I wanted to be just like her, to be at one with her…”

The mannequin gazed inquisitively at Carter, almost embracing him if life had sprung from within it. Oh pure, pure chastity! Her virgin body encapsulates all youth and vigour. Yet her innocent and intricate face seemed to glow with a sad smile. She was lonely like the angels.

The man in the tuxedo also gazed at the frantic insanity that swept across the man. That type of affection was abnormal.
“I’ll deliver her next Monday, at noon sharp,” his voice was monotonous and commanding like that of a news radio. He lit a cigarette, careless enough not to offer Carter one, but asked “how about some tea to celebrate this splendid occasion?”

Nodding faintly and keeping his eyes on the woman, Carter and the man in tuxedo journeyed to the kitchen.

Something was boiling. The soft smell of it dug its way up Carter’s nose. He sat down and took a bite. “She needs a name. Being anonymous makes everything so… fake.”

The man in tuxedo replied hesitantly, “Yeah.”

“It makes things so mysterious.”

Perhaps being slightly frustrated at Carter’s obsession, he objected, “Maybe that’s how it should be.”

Carter took another bite, protested with a slight cough after the biscuit slithered down his throat, and then repeated himself over and over again. “She is so pretty…”

The man in tuxedo shrieked, the sound almost blending harmonically with the boiling pot.

“Long live the mannequin!”

The wax mannequin’s face began melting from the boiling water. The man slammed the door after him.

--Uncertain