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Clay, pt2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CLAY pt2
He has been working on this piece for over a year now, going
to and from all of his other obligations to come back and do more on her. He
always finds himself when he needs to think comming back to this block of
clay. Thinking to himself...I have redone this part over and over again but
there is just something that is missing from her. I am not capturing what I
want this woman to be, why can't I even do that. He dropped his tools into
the mixing bowl full of redish water and took his glass and bottle of wine
out to the porch. Most of my works are done for the New York Showing, it
would be good to talk to my peers again. I have been shutting myself up here
for too damn long. The wine burned his throat and he was a bit dizzy after
but felt good and wanted to unwind. The overlook was covered in green ivy
and in the center was a brass telescope with a camera attachment. Often he
would look onto the crowds that came for the many town celebrations and
if he saw a face or even part of someone that inspired him to use in his
art he would take a picture. This year he was doing a number of fantasy
works. The forefront was The Four Horseman each was done to the finest of
detail that he could exact. The horses were full size and in a wonderful
flowing motion. All of the horseman...War..Plague..Famine and Death were
all in their dread glory. Darren hated to travel, but the showing was so
important to him there was no one that he could trust with all of the details
that it involved. They were even now at his main workshop being readyed for
the long voyage to the states. This workshop was for his private works and
his refuge from the world. He was tired for the main workshop he had spent
too many long months there and needed to get his head together before the
trip. Working here where he could see and hear people made him feel less
cut off from his fellow man. It was never comfortable for him to meet many
people anymore, even if he still love to be around them. He just could see
it in there eyes...the fear...and hate sometimes. This way he could still
feel as if he were with people even if he only watched.
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