The Sculptor

“Respect what you have especially if its love. Love is a precious thing, a powerful thing that can turn pure evil if you besmirch it.”

I wrote this story for the following prompt.
Sadje’s What Do You See – picture above
FOWC with Fandango  — Brick
Your Daily Word — Vitiate
Pensitivity’s three things challenge — Petty – Single – Duet

The Sculptor

The bust of Vie was magnificent. Every detail was perfect down to the curls in her hair and the elegant angle of her nose.

Vivienne felt nothing but disdain for it. The sculptor, Marcos, didn’t deserve the glory, in her eyes. Vivienne had been young and single when she began her lessons as a sculptor. Marcos was her teacher and he became so much more.

She recalled how he began to vitiate her innocence in the way he would touch her arms and back. Those kisses on her hands as he guided the hammer or chisel, she held.

Marcos was the owner of some carnal magic by the way he made her putty in his dexterous hands.

Vivienne remembered all those nights after class with a smirk. Posing nude for him, so he could craft his magnificent statues of her.

When he was done with his chisels, he would join her in a lusty duet upon the pedestal until it was time to go home.

Every night, she would ask, ‘Do you really love me?’

He would answer, ‘My love is only for you. I’ve never kept another lady after class to share my infatuation and love for. You own my heart.’

Vivienne shook her head, she’d believed every word like a naive little schoolgirl. Then he double-booked himself.

Just last week, Marcos had left her a text message. ‘Join me in the studio at 8 PM we’ll finish the piece and have a little fun.’

Vivienne said she would. She put on an alluring red dress for him and dashed down to the University. Arriving almost exactly at eight o’clock she entered the sculpting studio.

Marcos was so deep in the throes of love on his desk, he never noticed his new arrival.

Vivienne watched him and his new lover writhing like anacondas with a mixture of anger and horror for almost a minute before she left.

Marcos, called an hour later asking why she hadn’t turned up. Called her petty when she said she’d seen everything and would never come again. His excuse was that it was hard to resist so many beautiful ladies in his class. He had the sickening guile to say that she, Vivienne, was still his special one. That she should forgive him.

His words only stirred fiery disdain within Vivienne. The bitter fury grew stronger as the week elapsed. Then the sign appeared on campus.

‘The magic of Vie collection – by sculptor Marcos Pezzone. Opening this Wednesday.’

It was now 2 AM Wednesday. Vivienne lifted a bucket of thick, stinking, black motor oil and poured it over the bust of vie. “Marcos, I’ll teach you for being a vile snake. You called me Vie when you used me. Now, you will not have the honour of showing me to the world!”

Dumping the bucket, she watched the oil ooze down the bust, drip onto the pedestal and begin pooling on the white floor.

That was just the beginning. Vivienne took a brick from her handbag. Running her long red manicured fingernails along the rough surface, she eyed the other statues.

Full length, erotic, embarrassing in the way that left her feeling used and abused by the horrible sculptor.

Vivienne let out a cry of anger and ran to the nearest.

The brick exploded through the face. Blow after blow crushed the perfect smooth abdomen.

Vivienne hammered away until the brick and statue resembled a pile of rubble.

Picking up another bust, she hurled it at a sculpture of her in a reclined pose. Both cracked and crumbled under the thunderous impact.

“I’ll teach you!” Vivienne screamed as she tore down a speaker and tripod. Seizing a bar from the tripod she continued to vitiate the sculptural display. Not one statue of her remained intact when she was finished.

A sigh left her body along with all the anger she felt. With a wry smile, she left the gallery.

Amid the destruction, Vivienne left one statue intact. This one was the lover Marcos had replaced her with. Three lipstick words were daubed across the abdomen, “Enjoy her, Marcos!”

The following morning, Vivienne hid in her car and watched Marcos walk into the gallery in his finery. Within minutes, he reemerged with his head down and a handkerchief pressed to his face.

Vivienne started her car and drove away. This was the last time she’d ever see the University and Marcos. Was she petty destroying the statues? Maybe. Did Marcos get what he deserved? Perhaps. Vivienne would hold some regret for the rest of her life. However, as long as Marcos learned to respect women, she felt it was well worth it.

The End

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