The Face

Darius felt like he was going crazy. He’d been painting for four days. The same face, over and over. Different poses, different settings, but always the same face. Huge wrinkled forehead, narrow chin, kissable lips, perfect nose. It was an alien look but beautiful all the same.

For the last two weeks, Darius had dreamed of this face. Now, he was painting and couldn’t stop. The urge to paint was so great that if he didn’t paint, he would suddenly start feeling sick to his stomach and getting stomach cramps.

So, Dariaus painted. He painted until he passed out, then woke up and started painting again. Always the same face. But always a different scene.

Dariaus brought a whole new meaning to the term starving artist. Food had not passed his lips since the day he started painting the face. It was almost like the face was all the sustenance his body needed anymore.

So, Darius painted. He painted until he ran out of canvas. Then Darius started painting on the walls. He painted until he ran out of paint, then used charcoal sticks. He painted until he had nothing left to paint on or with. And when everything was gone, the cramping started again with a vengeance.

Dariaus felt like his gut would rupture; the pain was so great. He was doubled over in pain. He didn’t know what was going on. He had never felt a pain this severe. Any worse, and he would puke, he felt.

Suddenly, Darius noticed his gut was swelling up. It was already the size of a large cantaloupe. At the rate it was swelling, it’d be the size of a vast watermelon before long.

Suddenly, Darius started to pass some severe wind. Darting toward the restroom, he removed his belt and unbuttoned his Levi jeans. Before he could remove his paints, he passed some more wind. Suddenly, his gut ruptured. Out came a bunch of alien creatures with big heads running around on multiple appendages.

If Darius had still been alive, he would have seen his offspring from his alien lover eating his flesh from his bones.