Skip to main content
Like
Create new Glog
previous
next
Email share
40 views | 0 likes | 0 reposts
Everything the Wax-worker did, he did with great care and great attention. He was not a man to do things by halves.
The Wax Worker
Every job he began, he completed.
To the very last minutiae of the task. Conscientious, he could be called. But for himself, it was not for the pleasure of the work that he paid such special attention, though he dearly loved his occupation,
but it was for those others who were affected by his efforts, that he toiled so hard.
And never was he so industriously occupied, than when he was working on his newest art piece. Or when he was choosing his latest art piece. He would survey his models with great care and attention, paying close scrutiny to every aspect that made up their whole,
the smallest freckles,
the largest moles,
the length of their arms and the size of their feet.
or the way they blushed under such analysis. His models found it most uncomfortable,
He admired the symmetry of their faces and the brightness of their eyes. The play of light on their skin,
but never for long.
He prepared his models with the greatest of care, situating them carefully in the appropriate setting and
carefully
wiping the last remnants of liquid from their lips, an act he savoured as he felt their last breath cross his face.
He painted every one of them tenderly, lovingly,
He slowly dipped the paintbrush into the melted wax, and just as slowly drew it down her long pale neck, carefully negotiating the slight bump of her collarbone as if it were a simple speedbump in his path.
A line of sweat broke out on his brow as he worked. A single bead broke lose and slowly ran a trail down the side of his face.
Slowly, tremulously, the drop hung there, and for one agonising moment he thought it might fall on his girl, ruining her, before it slid ever so gently down his neck, before disappearing into the gaping maw of his shirt.
It hesitated along the side of his jaw where it tickled his skin. But he would not lift his hand to wipe it away until his work was complete. Not for so minor an annoyance.
He only stopped at the gentle rise of her breast when the brush was dry. Then dipped the brush back into the heated wax, before continuing on.
He let out a sigh of breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, but his hand, so sure and steady, never stopped working. It continued its ministration; capturing his girl forever in her greatest moment of beauty.
Background by MrTurma
By Nicowa
amit20 added this comment 2008-08-26 06:17:47-05:00
toooo gooooooood
amit20 added this comment 2008-08-26 06:17:47-05:00
toooo gooooooood