Red Pollock

See, the thing is, I didn't actually do it. I know everyone says that, but in this case, it's really actually, truly true.

I was a struggling artist. A cliché I embodied fully. Struggling to make rent, pinching pennies. Homeless more than once, drifting from squat to relative to art collective. Leaning on the goodwill of friends.

Poverty was a fucked up golden goose. I railed against it, it often sent my mental health spiralling, but that created an artistic well for me to mine. My mental energy was drained by the house insecurity, the constant anxiety. Yet, as hard as the hard times were, what I made then was among my best work.

There were two murders in the city where I was living, both following the same gruesome M.O.

Now, one murder is tragic, heinous...but two is very nearly a serial killer. And people, (apparently normal healthy, decent people) love a serial killer.

Unnerved, I moved away. I joined a new art collective, optimistic it'd mark a turning point. It did, though not the way I expected.

Two more people were slaughtered, right in the building where I was living. The finger of blame landed on me. I'd no alibi. The only people who could vouch for my whereabouts were labelled unreliable witnesses. Work from a rather dark phase of mine was held up as proof of my twisted mind. And of course, there I'd moved, and the murderer had moved.

I wondered if I'd gone utterly mad. If I really had done it. My mental health suffered worse than ever before. I leaned heavily on the therapeutic art class they run here, losing myself in the cheap materials.

My work sells now. I'm "making bank". The trial turned out to be a neat bit of advertising.

I have housing security, and food every day (not gourmet but infinitely better than nothing). Still enough hardship to keep my tortured artist's edge.

There's an appeal coming up. New evidence has came to light that could vindicate me, and ruin my livelihood. My brush moves as if on its own, and my brain fizzes with possibilities.

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Word count: (excluding note): 366

Submitted on: 15th April at 22:08

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes an 106 day streak since the 1st January. I can't believe I've come this far! I'm collating them all here.

Prompts: If you'd like to have a go at my unofficial April Challenge (Fucked Up Fairytales) I've linked it at the bottom. If you'd like some more prompts to get your creative juices flowing, I've posted a list of prompts for April, and I've linked that as well.

Thank you

Thank you again! Especially if you are one of the people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you 😁

I do my best to reciprocate as many reads as possible. If you leave me a comment, that makes it much easier.