Personal Message
Description
Writing sample - inspired from league of legends.
Trigger warning; death, blood
Taemin was a bright student who excelled in many subjects: poetry, painting, music and dance. Yet his mind was sick, nothing able to cure his morbid fascinations. He turned people into his canvas and every brushstroke came in the form of assassinations and mass murders bearing his signature of extreme brutality but with touches of elegance, of beauty. He chases the purest form of art and that, he believes, is found in death.
The curtain rises.
" You see, art requires a certain...cruelty." The man whispered, the corners of his lips curling into a smile, his gaze locked on his 'canvas' which had yet to reach completion. His fingers ghosted over the black and white keys of the piano found at the center of the stage, the spotlight on him alone as the rest of the theater remained engulfed by darkness. "This art is a compulsion, I can't resist it. But believe me...I never hurt anyone. It is the performance that kills." His words were spoken with such composure, voice sweet as honey.A soft chuckle escaped his rosy tiers in response to the cries and squirming of his victim, his canvas which would soon be turned into perfection. " Why are you crying? Life has no meaning, but your death shall. Smile! For I will show you what beauty truly is." Taemin slammed his hands on the keyboard, a distorted and high-pitched sound echoing in the room, accompanied by his laughter. He stood up abruptly and reached for the mutilated and barely breathing woman tied to a chair right next to his stool. The blooming process had already begun as crimson petals decorated her skin and Taemin knew that soon enough she would become the most beautiful rose to ever be seen. Everything was prepared for the last part of the play, there was no rush as death should never be quick. It should be an opera. Only the audience was missing but not for long as he had planned every detail, the applause being a necessity for his art. He lived for the applause and his victim would die for it.
"Your finale scene begins." he announced as he picked his engraved gun, finger curling on the trigger and the muzzle nuzzling the woman's forehead. Right on cue, the entrance doors were broken open. The police - his audience - arrived. Taemin knew it was the beginning of the end, his last piece of art. Bodies, completed paintings, were scattered all over the velvety seats, in his eyes a garden of roses, in reality a massacre. He felt powerful as in carnage he bloomed like a flower in the dawn. " This is my love, each bullet a part of my soul." He screamed at the top of his lungs before emptying the chamber of every bullet. Finally, his art was complete, it reached full blossom. The cries and screams of terror were like a violin solo which faded in the background, the warmth of the gun, his paintbrush, bringing him to the bliss. And that night he became part of his own art and he gave his last breath on the stage, just as he was destined to.
The curtain falls.