Challenge #00245: Learning Curve

Scott, the new floral and somewhat emotionally expressive studmuffin, wows the blue hairs at the convention. His ego does a world of good for it.

“I do a lot of beach-combing for interesting pieces,” said Scott. “And I get bucket-loads of shells from that, I never knew why I picked them up in the first place, but I had bucket-loads of shells and I had to do something with them…” Click. The next slide showed an orchid made of shells. “And that’s what started the Earth and Sea collection.” An array of semi-realistic not-plants made from shells, felt and driftwood. “And then… I dreamed up this creature.”

It was his first and most nightmarish ur-creature. He’d cleaned a beached blob monster and, after making certain it wasn’t anything endangered, used what remained of its skeleton in a work that could only be judged as threatening. The wire also held beach glass he’d turned into beads, making it both beautiful and revolting. Sticks, rocks and shells made parts that were missing from the skeleton.

“I’m still working through a lot of things, and with some help, I managed to figure it out. My little brother Alex loved the beach… and I hadn’t been down to one since… I lost my entire family in a plane crash.”

Murmur murmur murmur, went the blue-haired arts donors.

“The daymares, as I call them… are all me trying to deal with death. They’ve been… an obsession since I finished putting the Hunter together.” He wanted to say, Please buy some of these, they’re taking over a whole basement and they’re creeping everyone out including me. Instead, he said, “By facing down the spectre of death, I grew stronger. I learned to conquer my fears. And now it’s time for these monsters to find their place in the world.” You don’t have to take them home… “You can own a little piece of strength against the grim spectre of death.”

Silence. And then, stunningly, applause. The blue-hairs, grey-hairs and sundry elite filed out of the presentation hall and into the gallery, where a stunning array of macabre artworks stood behind glass.

It almost bothered him that he could convince people to buy this stuff. It bothered him more that he had fans. Who were busy beach-combing for blob monsters for him.

And worse, some were trying to imitate them.

But the money, the real money, was in the rich artsy people who didn’t have a lick of creativity of their own. So they compensated by buying galleries, and owning art.

“They’re really quite stunning,” said a blue-hair by his elbow. “All the things from the sea. It reminds us that that which we enjoy too hard can also be our doom.”

Instead of being stunned by the revelation, Scott acted pleased that she’d noticed. “Yes,” he said. “Life is too fragile to take anything for granted.”

She had a slip of paper in her hand. She’d bought the Gorgon. Yikes. He thought he’d never get rid of that thing.

He’d already told his fans, no more dead bears. Or dead pigs. Or the bones, in fact, of anything larger than a labrador. And no dead small dogs, either. And damnit, he was not in the business of turning your dead pet into an artwork. Gah.

’…have a granddaughter about your age, very interested in the modern art scene.“

Whoops. Good thing he’d learned to pick up hazard words instead of listening on autopilot. "Sorry, ma'am, but I already have a fiancee. She’s meeting me in…” he checked his watch, “Five minutes ago. I do apologize, but I simply must go find her. You have a good evening.”

Sure enough, he found Jean by the less disturbing floral creations. No surprise. She’d told him that if she “had to look at another one of those things,” she’d be doing so through a weapon sight.

“You’re looking confident,” said Jean. “I like it.”

“It helps that they like me,” he shrugged. “And that you do, too.”

“And you got rid of the dead bear. Yay,” she whispered.

Telepaths. You couldn’t keep anything a secret. “Want to hop over to the Performing Arts place and hear Sara playing?”

“Yeah. I owe her some ‘personal thanks’ for putting you onto using bones.”

“Hey, at least she shared how to stop them stinking up the place.”

“Survival mechanism, studmuffin. Survival mechanism.”

Scott laughed and walked in step with the love of his life. Things were looking up.

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