She prepared his favorite snacks, the ones he liked when he was on another painting bender, but wouldn’t take a moment’s rest to prepare any food for himself. She paused and poured two servings of his favorite beverage, too. He said there would be new work ready to share this afternoon. She did understand that it was better to let the muse flow when his mind was this tormented, but it seemed self-destructive.
She gathered the rest of the meal in her arms and crept softly through the doorway, passing from inside their main dwelling and out into the more open air of his preferred studio, weather permitting. Five canvases were already propped against the balcony railing, framed by the more comforting normal view from this place. His back was to her, as he worked on a nearly complete sixth painting on a giant easel to one side.
Air escaped her in alarm. “My word, darling. These look positively horrifying.”
“I know. It always feels like I am exorcizing demons after one of these nightmares. We don’t need to keep them all. Have a peek.”
She placed the food down in a safe and secure place away from art supplies, but retained the beverages, and approached the first canvas. She shivered without a word and moved on to the second painting. After a long sip from her beverage, and tilting her center of vision at a different angle did not help, she said, “Please take a break, and explain this one.”
He touched up his current work in five places and placed his equipment down. “You are right. I have been doing this ever since I last woke up.” He joined her and accepted his beverage. “What is your first impression?”
She sipped again while giving the second painting a little side-eye. “It is the same monster as the first one, but inside out?”
“No, no. Based on the dream parts I remember this time, this figure is all one and the same subject, doing different things. Perhaps it is dressed differently here.” He tilted, too. “Or, undressed?”
She moved on and beheld the third painting fully for the first time. She waved her arms in disgust, spilling her beverage. “What is it DOING! Gross!”
He laughed to himself. “Could it be a different cleaning ritual?”
“Inside its HEAD!”
Bob blinked three times, white foam on his bottom lip, toothbrush jammed in his mouth. He refocused on the reflection of his bathroom’s shower head over his right shoulder, half asleep. Were those – tentacles? he thought. He stared into the mirror again, but the vision or memory of his recurring dream or whatever was gone.
Bob shrugged and resumed brushing. He didn’t have much time to dilly dally. He had that client presentation before lunch, and he was meeting Marcy for coffee again after work. It was going to be an eventful day.
From Reddit WritingPrompt [WP] An artist recreates the visions they’re having on canvas, depicting horrifying scenes of unimaginable creatures.