a dream that dissolves upon waking

happy valentine's day!

Please read on Ao3 but I'll also post part it below the cut TW: gore and k*lling

That evening, when my whole world flipped, the setting sun seemed to call me to paint it. The sky felt like a moment one would usually call " picture-perfect," at the time, I would have also referred to it as such. But now I know it was just a hollow background for something greater, something my mind would never dare to conjure up on its own. I went on to capture the view as a simple warm-up before shifting my focus to other projects I had kept putting off due to a wall I had seemed to hit in my creative process. The sketch was completed rather quickly; the skyline out of my atelier, though the sky is ever-changing, is one I've sketched a hundred times. So, each stroke of my pencil was familiar and easy to speed through. Satisfied with the rough outline, I began to paint, realizing all too late that I havent enough red to finish. A mistake, though a simple one, is odd as I am one who does not make mistakes when it comes to art. Looking back, this may have been destiny pushing me towards something grander.

Though this was a warm-up, I could not have an unfinished painting as the night's first work. It would set a sour tone for the rest of the night. I quickly shoved my things into a satchel and headed out as clouds began to loom above. Though the skies now spoke of rain, the Store was not far, and I was sure I would return before it started raining. Another mistake, this one less surprising as I am an artist, not a meteorologist and cannot predict the weather, so as I finished purchasing the paints and a few other things I knew I was running low on, it began to drizzle. Though the Store was already close to home, I knew that if I took the back roads and alleys, I could arrive home much faster, and there would be less risk of myself and the supplies I just bought getting soaked. I set out, trying to move quickly through the side streets. Keeping in mind that though this way was faster, it also had its downsides. The side streets are filled with trash and trash-like people who like to lurk in the shadows and pounce on easy targets. It was then when I turned a corner while running, I heard a scream ring out, and I could see a woman in the distance running from something, or rather someone. Flashes of front pages of the last few editions of the paper flew through my mind of "a series of women found dead in gruesome killings," all done by whom they named "Jack The Ripper.". Try as I might, I couldn't recall if they ever managed to catch him because I did not actually read the paper; I had mainly used them to cover the floor when painting. While cursing at myself for my lack of interest in the rest of the world, panic began to sink in as I could now see the woman and the large figure behind her; if I didn't do something soon, I would've gotten caught. I dove behind the trash cans that littered the sides of the alley and backed myself into the shadows. I don't think of myself as someone without a conscience or that I am overly cruel; however, helping this woman was out of the question. What would I have even been able to do for her other than get myself killed in her place? I wouldn't do that for my own mother, let alone a stranger.