Art
The Artists arrived on an unsuspecting Earth; they arrived in shining spaceships curved into weird and disturbing shapes. It would take the humans no short time to work out why the ships were so disturbing and by that point it was a bit mute anyway.
The Artists were sleek, looking as is they were made from shiny rigid plastic in bold shades of red and black but they were flexible and their skin did not wrinkle or furrow when they moved. There heads curved up like an over grown gnome hat but it was all their flesh. Flesh that turned out to be as hard as armour plating and not brittle in the least. They were pretty impenetrable. Their mouth parts opened in four pieces but there were no teeth, they ate algae filtered from bodies of water, this lulled the humans into thinking they were safe.
Worries over plague were the initial problem but that soon died down as other species from other planets had come with them. They were welcomed.
Our first contact.
They gave the humans wonderful fabrics and jewels, selected an elite to wear creations they had made. People flocked to the fashion shows. People of just about every body form where required and all exulted in it.
And then one morning those who survived got up to find the streets painted in blood and gore, vital organs hung from the trees in various shades of purple, green and pink, tendrils of fat where draped artistically over the branches. A garden of hands on spikes reached up to the sky. And in the town centers or general open spaces there where people some of whom where still alive, impaled on stakes arms and feet missing, the ends of the bone sticking out just so. These where arranged in tablos, a family here, a couple there.
Bows of flayed flesh adorned park benches. The survivors retched up their meals and screamed themselves horse, then wondered in desolation amongst the gristle and guts of their peers. And then… then the tourists began to arrive, aliens of many shapes and sizes carrying what amounted to cameras and guidebooks. And then the true horror started, some of them commissioned art work from the Artists and the rounding up began this time the victims know what was coming and all they could do was run until this latest art fad died a death.
Posted: Friday, October 8th, 2010 @ 7:54 am
Categories: Flash Fiction.
Subscribe to the comments feed if you like.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.