Drawn to Death

CHAPTER ONE: "The Pen"

HER reflection is more than enough to express what is going through her mind.

She is staring at someone in a purple dress that contrasts with her brown skin, regarding her slim physique, all the way to her face where she meets with her dark brown eyes that settle under a mane of thick curly hair.

The eyes stare right back at her, putting her in a kind of trance and she can hear herself in her own mind, uttering the words "They'll see you, they'll love you".

"They'll see you, they'll love you," she reiterates until the reflection begins to chant alongside her and would have gone on forever had it not been for her buzzing phone.

Snapping back to reality, she silently cusses upon realizing that she has done it again. But what can she do? She just can't help it-never been able to help it-ever since she discovered what she could do back when she was in college, six years ago.

Now, here she is, replying to a text from her best friend, informing her that she is outside, waiting. She grabs her purse and quickly leaves the house.

"There she is!" her best friend beams at her, regarding her look, "damn, girl! You trying to murder someone tonight?"

"Oh, shut up, Jia!" she rolls her eyes as she approaches her bestie.

Jia Taylor knows how to nail the sweetness in just about everything and it is clearly evidenced by her short appearance, her short blue-dyed hair that settlew just above her shoulders and she is a professional baker.

"Allow me!" Jia says, rushing to the other side of her car and opening the door. "The world better watch out. Kassandra Smith is coming!"

"You can be a real dork sometimes, you know," Kassandra chuckles, sliding into the shotgun seat.

"And yet, you'd be lost without me!" Jia says, exchanging hi-fives, got behind the wheel, ignited the engine and the Porsche had its wheels reeling against the asphalt of Los Angeles.

It takes them just a couple of minutes to get to the annual art exhibition and Kassandra can already feel her legs turning to Jell-O the moment her heels touch the ground.

"Hey," Jia grabs her hands, "you got this."

Kassandra turns either way and sees a lot of people. Some are snapping photos of each other, others just talking and laughing while the rest make their way into the large hall that is hosting the exhibition as nightfall grows closer.

She just wishes in her heart that they would all be reacting the same way when they see her work.

"Miss Smith!" starts a tall blonde-haired man in a dark suit, extending an arm.

"Mr. Matthews, " Kassandra returns, "I see you already set up my work."

"Well, you don't pay me to just sit around, do you?" Matthews grins, "Hey, Jia. Looking good tonight."

"Keep it in your pants, " Jia retorts.

"Always a pleasure."

"Would you two knock it off?" Kassandra sighs. Her big night then begins when she walks in. The person she has been dreading all week.

Everyone hushes as she waltz through the entrance, her tall figure enveloped in a magnificent velvety jumpsuit that is a perfect portrayal of her power, topped off with her short close-cropped silver-white hair.

She is the art critique supreme. A wonder unlike any other for some but also a pain in the ass for those who aren't so lucky to not fall under her critical acclaim. She is Madame Delphine.

Kassandra can feel her heart beat faster than she can fathom as she stands next to her own work of art-a forty-two inch wide canvas detailing a monochromatic abstract sketch depicting a woman's head surrounded by celestial bodies.

"What do you call this?" Madame Delphine asks, scrutinizing the canvas.

"Existential," Kassandra says, "it's about how the human mind thinks of-"

"No," is the critique's blunt response.

"What?"

"It's too obvious. Too shallow. Too. . . mediocre."

Kassandra is about to say something but the critique turns and walks away without another word, throwing her work of art into an abyss of nonexistence.

Everything then becomes too loud for Kassandra. She can hear people laughing and marvelling at the works of other artists.

"That bitch!" Jia spits, turning to console her friend who is long gone. "Kas! Kas! Wait!"

Kassandra rushes out of the exhibition, fighting against a stream of tears until she ends up at a bar, ignoring Jia's calls.

She has just taken her third beer when someone, an old woman, sits at the table next to her.

"Bad night."

Kassandra ignores her.

"Hey, aren't you that artist. I love your work!"

At this, Kassandra turns to look at the wrinkly face beaming at her. Apart from Jia and her agent, Matthews, no one ever acknowledges her work.

"Congratulations," Kassandra mutters, "you're now in my top three fans."

"Life can really suck. Believe me-I know, " the woman goes on, "but what if I told you all that could change in an instant if you wanted it to."

Kassandra is not following. She just wants to drown herself in liquor.

The old woman then slips something out of her coat and gives it to Kassandra. It has a distinct crystalline cover, silvery, allowing Kassandra to see her own reflection and she almost gets entranced but then looks up to find the old woman gone.

Figuring she has had enough, Kassandra tosses the pen aside and leaves for home.

She kicks her shoes off, throws her purse to the ground and then goes "huh" when a silvery pen rolls out.

She stoops to pick it up and once again, there is that reflection. It has a psychedelic effect until it starts coming into focus, allowing her to see a figure that she thinks is her own reflection. She tries squinting to get a better look but she is too out of it.

Kassandra lets the pen slip through her fingers but never sees where it lands as something else-someone?-picks it up and hands it back to her. Her vision grows bleary as her eyes became heavy, making the person appear distant and ghastly before she finally zones out, a tiny voice lulling her to sleep,
whispering her name.

Kassandra. . .

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Hey guys,
What did you think about that premiere? Let me know where you think this is going in the comments.

New chapters return Saturday, Oct 15.

STAY TUNED!

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