• “For our next piece, we have a new work from contemporary artist, Ryu Flowe. Exhibiting the style of Massurrealism, this piece features elements of both macabre and fantasy. As his 99th piece, we all applaud his triumph at such a successful career. This artist is world renowned for his work, and it is my greatest pleasure to welcome him here today- Mr. Ryu D. Flowe.”
    A roar of applause erupted from the anxious crowd as an ambiguous man stepped silently out from behind a shadow to stand at the podium. The man possessed a sort of dark beauty with long, shiny dark hair that reached his narrow waist. His figure was tall, towering around 6 and a half feet above the floor, making him appear as though he had been stretched out. His arms seemed to dangle at his sides like the appendages of an old rag doll. The clothes that covered his pearly white skin were of a contrasting black that was darker than the shadows that lurked behind the silk curtains covering the large canvas that loomed above him. The man’s eyes black orbs of eyes glinted with an eerie glow, enhanced by a small pair of half moon glasses that rested precariously at the tip of a long, narrow nose. As he opened his mouth to speak, pencil thin lips became apparent for the first time, blending in with the rest of the pale skin.
    “I thank you very much for the opportunity to exhibit my work at such a highly regarded gallery. It is humbling to think that my art shall be among some of the greatest names throughout history. As you may know, I only began my career as an artist a mere ten years ago, and already my success has escalated to such an amazing height. As I unveil my 99th piece of art to be featured is such an established spot, I quiver in excitement when I think that in less than a month I shall be revealing my 100th work of art. I graciously thank you, the public, for endorsing and viewing my comparably insignificant contributions to the greater artistic world. As such, these piece is to be dedicated to those few who have supported me from the beginning, as well as those who support me now.” He brandished a slender hand, cueing for the curtain to be pulled off. As the fabric fell to the stage floor, a collective gasp came from the crowd. Before them stood a dark portrait, portraying an ambiguous figure colored in white on it knees, arms drooping at its sides with the claw-like fingers brushing the dying grass underneath the figure. From its back sprouted two grey wings, each feather long and hanging on to revealed, yellowed bones. A few of the feathers were floating drifting in the wind, one of them was turning into a dark red dust, hinting at the source of other such powders blowing around on the false winds. Behind the figure was a reddish glint coming from a large lake, the water the same color as the steady flow of tears that ran from the empty sockets of eyes. The background with a dirty white, shaded with a deep, scarlet red. The painting had some sort of gruesome beauty about it- horrifying yet enchanting.
    From the crowd, a person began to clap. Another began to cheer. Soon, the entire gallery was filled with cheering and clapping. Ryu smiled, his emotions unapparent to any casual observer. “Thank you very much.” The man bowed, his hair elegantly flowing to land in front of his face. As he rose, brushing his hair out of his face he spoke once more. “Thank you once again, my friends. I do hope you will enjoy my latest piece. Sadly, I must take my leave. Goodbye, until next time.” The man bowed once more and then strode off the stage with an air of importance, leaving the thundering applause behind him.
    However, Ryu’s mind was already back in his studio, preparing for his next piece. Oh yes…that one was going to be his best work yet. He began scheming for his upcoming project. The car door fell shut silently as Ryu left the gallery’s parking lot. A faint smile graced his lips as images and visions of the finished product filled his mind. Ryu jolted out of his trance as a small “beep” emitted from a tiny speaker alerted him that he had reached his studio.
    The large, white walled building towered above the city at a good twenty-five stories above the ground. The tenants of the building ranged from business giants to movie stars- but you didn’t need to be famous to live or work here. You just needed to be rich.
    Ryu had earned his spot here through years of selling art, and the fact that he was the son of a successful Japanese business women and one of the French elite helped too. The reclusive artist had a joined apartment and studio on the top floor. He believed that “being closer to heaven…being to closer to the gods…inspires the minds of humans. The spirits guide my hands to create their visions- I am only an avatar for their creations.”
    Ryu parked his car and stepped out, heading towards the extravagant doors. Pushing through, he gave a nod to the young doorman, responding to the chipper “Welcome back, Mr. Flowe!”. Stepping on the elevator, he fished in his pocket and pulled out a thin hair band. He pulled back the black locks and secured them in a ponytail, which he then clipped to the back of his skull. He then pulled out a pair of latex gloves which he slipped on his hands. He had no time to waste when he arrived, so he needed to prepare now. As his greatest piece, this project would take the most time and skill. The elevator dinged and the man stepped out of the elevator, proceeding smartly to his studio. The slender, gloved fingers punched in the key code and the white door swung open as he entered. Finally…oh yes, this was going to be a true masterpiece. His best in years.
    He already had his materials laid out and his canvas had been prepped. A tarp was on the floor to protect the fine wood from any spills. Ryu slipped on an apron that also served as a belt. He grabbed his knife and kneeled down over the stripped body.
    The person before him was naked, their original clothing folded neatly on a shelf. Ryu had chosen a woman for this project. He didn’t know why, usually he only used men, they were easier to work with. But it seemed like a female would be appropriate. He had neatly shaved the woman’s head, and made a neat line starting at her chin and slowly slanting upwards. He checked her breathing and pulse, to make sure that the drug she had been given hadn’t had any unwanted effects. He then pried open her eyelids, to check that the woman was unconscious. He picked up her hand and made a slight cut on the tip of her finger. A trickle of blood escaped before it clotted. That was good, he couldn’t have her bleeding out before his art was complete. This was it, the first stroke.
    He pushed his knife up against her face at an angle, pushing upwards. He stopped when he felt his tool stop at the bone. This is why Ryu had modified the blade; pressing down on a button, he began to apply a sawing motion. As soon as the pressure was gone he pressed the button again and began to cut up again. The artist was very meticulous about his work. He needed to be very careful. If he were to cut an important tube or vein, the entire piece would be ruined. He had dreamed about this, but had never really gotten around to it.
    He knew it was plausible- to cut off the head and leave the body alive. The brain stem just had to be left in tact, along with the essential organs needed for breathing and eating and drinking. It would be tricky, but he was sure he could do it. No…he NEEDED to do it. How could he not? This contribution to the world of art. His mind was focused on his art. It was his passion- his calling.
    If he could do this...he could be a revolutionary. Ryu paused momentarily to wipe thin eyebrows clear of sweat. He pushed his knife farther…this was it. Almost…almost…yes. Be carefully pulled his blade away and began to apply bandages and heat to the blood that was already clotting thanks to the drugs. When the flow of blood had been stopped, he leaned down and pressed his head against the woman’s chest. There was a moment of unbearable tension while he waited for her chest to heave, or to feel a thump a telltale sign that she was still alive. The entire piece would be ruined if she was dead. And amateur could cut of someone’s head. No…it had to be perfect.
    Thump
    Thump
    Thump
    “Yes…” she was alive. A living body without a head…heart still beating, lungs still working.
    Standing up, he pulled off his blood stained gloves and put them in the rubbish can. He picked up his knife and dropped it carefully into a sanitizing solution. Slowly, Ryu lifted up the body and tied pieces of string onto each wrist and hoisted up the arms, shifting the body into a pose. After a few more adjustments, he found a pose he approved of and unveiled a canvas. He picked up his paint, that was of a higher quality then most. All of his paint had been mixed with blood. There was something about it, the color, the viscosity, that added something unique. Ryu let his hands move, filling the canvas with the blood mixed strokes.
    His 100th piece…the 100th body. Brilliant.