Johnny Killed Gwen - Inside the Mind of a Dark Artist

An Obscure Stream of Consciousness Piece

A Sookie Hawthorne Short Horror Story

I hate spending so much time away from my studio. Why is life always getting in the way of my creations? I don’t know how I’m going to get any work done at all with this kid on the way. How will we afford this? Gwen won’t work when the baby comes and it’s all on me. My art will die. My life won’t be mine anymore. How did we let this happen?

            The sculpture of the dove Johnny built cracked, and a small piece of the right wing fell off. This infuriated him, it was like watching a metaphor in real time of his own life crumbling before his pale blue eyes— detective eyes.

            “Fuck.”

            Fucking shit, man. I mean, why not? Might as well. I’m so fucking tired.

            He grabbed the clay dove and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall, dust rose from the floor where it lay.

            Damn, it. Why did I just do that? Now I have to start all over again. It won’t be the same next ti—but then again maybe I can make it better. Add some vines to it, buy that pearlescent glaze I saw last week. I wonder if it’s still on sale, actually, I may as well just go out to look today. Tell Gwen I need to go to the hardware shop for some screws for the crib, she won’t want to come. Maybe I’ll stop by the bar on my way back—no, cannot. Won’t. She deserves better than me.

            The dingy basement smelled of paint fumes and was dimly lit by the flickering fluorescent bar light above his workshop. Black and white sketches of nightmarish creatures lined the walls, and half-done paintings leaned against them on the floor. Empty bottles of vodka sat painted on a shelf with dead flowers in them. Johnny liked them better that way; dried, fragile, and exquisite: a reminder that beauty lives even in death. The creaky steps leading up to the house opened to the kitchen, and they were his least favorite place in his home. The trail that led away from his space, a flight of steps that only led to reality and responsibility. The stairs that led to Gweneth, the girl he met on a dating app and came to adore, before things began to fall apart and as he was ending it, she came with the news of a child on the way.

            Of course she’s not in the kitchen, it would be unreasonable to expect her to ever set foot in here. Fucking kill to make dinner for once. Is this how my life is going to be? Working it away to feed a child I didn’t want, coming home to nothing but more responsibility? No peace? No time alone? No time in the studio? No, I can’t. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe it’s true that once I see this kid everything will change. Maybe I can teach it how to make art. Maybe I can learn how to love Gwen. Gwen… the mother of my child. Damn, that’s weird. I’ve only known her two months. She was art when I saw her, and I fell for it. The lights are on but no one’s home. I’m such an idiot. Now I’m stuck with her. Then again, I could just leave after the kid comes. Split custody. That sounds good, I think that’s what I’ll do. Give myself enough time to give it a chance, at least. Maybe the experience will lead to more art.

            “I’m heading out to the hardware store for screws,” Please don’t say you want to tag along.

            “Mmhm,” Gwen mumbled curled up on the couch watching T.V. The low drone of True Blood vocalized into the kitchen from the living room.

            Sweet.

            Johnny grabbed his keys and reached for the side door to the pathway leading to the driveway.

            I hate this so much. I actually probably should stop by the hardware store after all for paint for the shed— how have I still not taken care of these weeds? Maybe I could get her to— no she’ll say she’s pregnant and shouldn’t have to, even though she wants to live here. Where’s the damn fob? I need to clean my car out. Gotta get a car seat soon. What is happening? I was just about to trade in for a newer Camry, am I going to have to get a bigger car? That’s probably ideal— could hide more bodies in a van— Jesus Christ where did that come from, stop it. They need to fix this stop sign. I hope the glaze is still on sale. I’m so lost in my head I’m not even playing music. Definitely not an Indie type of day, what’s a good Marilyn Manson song? SAY10 sounds good right now— Oh, God, I need to pay attention, just about rear-ended that guy.

            What are we even going to name this kid? If it’s a boy I guess it doesn’t matter, so long as he’s not a junior, if it’s a girl I always kind of liked the name Aldene— nah, too old school. Maybe something like Moriah or cooler like Artemis, Art for short. Who cares? I fuckin’ hate Gwen. I wish I never met her, this is too much for me. I’m old enough to have a kid but damn I thought I had more time. Someone that I actually got to know and came to love first.

            Then again, Gwen could die and then nothing would happen. Stop— these are dangerous thoughts— you won’t do it anyway and even if you could, how would you do it? How would you get away with it? Prison doesn’t sound good, how will I create? Then again, it could be the perfect opportunity to do nothing but create…

            Johnny parked in the small lot of the Arcadia Art Supplies and More shop. He put his keys in his pocket on his way in the door. He grabbed a few brushes, some more charcoal, and acetone before heading to the pottery glaze department. He found the pearlescent one he wanted so badly. It was not on sale anymore.

            I’m going to fucking scream.

            Now I actually have to go to the other store and I didn’t even get what I came out for. You know what? Fuck it, I’m buying it anyway this is horse shit. I’m so pissed right now. That would happen too, why didn’t I just grab it when I saw it? You know what? I’m getting the smokey jade one, too. Maybe I’ll make a nice vase with it, get some white roses to put inside it. Those will look nice dried. I’ll sketch it out, too.

            Oh, God. This lady again. I wish she’d shave her chin, I need to stop staring at—so rude. I can’t help it sometimes, it’s in my face. I wonder what her life is like outside of here. She always looks so uneasy around me, never looks me in my eyes, tries to get me out of here as soon as possible. How rude, I should stare harder. Bitch.

            Johnny left and went to the hardware store. When he strolled inside, something drew him to the lawn and garden section without a thought. Silent mind, searching eyes, and blackness in the pit of his stomach. He reached for the weed killer and stared at the shovels.

            Mine is rusty. Probably time for a new one. Actually, I need a new axe, too. I’ll get both I’m already here and I’ve already bought stuff I wanted so might as well grab stuff I need. Gotta get that white paint. Maybe not white now I think on it, I’ve always liked the navy. Yeah, I’ll do navy. I need to get home, get started on the dove. Gotta spray the weed killer around first, maybe I’ll get to the shed after work tomorrow, no— I’ll do it Sunday. I just want to relax tomorrow.

            Johnny’s phone chimed.

            “Could you pick up take out? I’m hungry. I’ll give you money,” a text read.

            We have plenty of food in the house, but whatever. I’m not cooking for her. Haven’t cooked for myself in awhile either, I hate that she’s always in my space. My space. It’s not mine anymore, at least, not for long. I am not fit for this, what if I fuck this up bad? I know I will. Damn, one hundred and seventy-eight dollars? Why is everything so expensive?

            The take out was from a hole in the wall Thai spot he and Gwen both liked. It smelled like lemongrass and searing beef, it made his mouth water. He was very hungry on the way home.

            Johnny came back in through the side door and after setting the lawn equipment outside beside it, he set the food on the table.

            She could’ve at least gotten plates and stuff ready. Every little thing she does or doesn’t do just irks the fuck out of me now. I think I’m going to end things. I can still be there for the pregnancy and the baby when it comes, but I can go back to my life for the most part.

            “Ugh, I’m so hungry, thank you. Damn, you didn’t grab napkins or forks?” Gwen was very irritated for someone that did nothing all day.

            “We have paper towels and… a whole drawer of silverware.” What the fuck?

            “Yeah but then there’s dishes to do and you won’t do them and if I forget to wash one fork you’re gonna go ballistic. It’s whatever, I’ll try to remember. What took you so long? Did you go to the art store, too?”

            What does it matter? “Yeah, just had to grab some stuff real quick.”

            “You know I was thinking that maybe it’s time to stop buying so many supplies. You get stuff every week and I don’t see you using much of it. We need to start buying more stuff for the baby. You know you won’t have all that free time to spend in that gross basement? I was thinking about converting it into a party space for when we have guests over.” Gwen had a knack for taking over things as if it was her job.

            Oh… that can’t happen.

Johnny imagined the most beautiful art he’d ever create, splattered paint that told a national story, one the world would not soon forget, one that would leave his name in the history books as an artist to recognize.

Johnny walked outside and grabbed the axe.