TAITU - The Artist in the Underworld

Oh no! Another nightmare. Not again. Not the same nightmare all over again. Leila Rainsleigh remembered dreaming this same dream. It always began by walking up red grasslands, and then wandering into a crimson cave with no ceiling. At the centre of the cave, there was a white garden swing decorated with flowers. Upon the swing, a ghostly woman sat, wearing a long white nightdress and yellow ribbons that fell down her cascading, brown hair. “Hello?” Leila called out, moving closer to the small woman on the swing. She received no answer. Expecting the dream to end just like it usually did, Leila was surprised when the brunette began to speak. “He is coming.” “He…who?” Leila asked, curiously eyeing the crimson flowers on the walls, then back towards the white figure. Leila leaped back in surprise. The white-clothed figure was no longer on the swing. Leila felt cold fingers on her right shoulder. Leila pivoted around and was stunned to see the white-clothed female standing directly behind her. Green locked onto green. Leila realised the eyes staring unblinkingly at her were so like her own. The ghostly apparition moved with the elegance of a nymph in spring. Moss green eyes were lit up in excitement while Leila could feel her stomach twisting and clenching with dread. “I am blessed as he is coming, but not just for me… but for you too.” Leila frowned, her worry growing. “Who? Who is coming?” The pale figure sighed and pointed down to the viscous black liquid coiling beneath the white swing. A low, ominous laugh emerged from the liquid and Leila recoiled back, eyeing the thick, dark liquid that dripped from the top of the swing frame. Below the swing, the dark liquid coagulated together, rising upwards into the solid figure of a man. The shape-shifter began to develop features that made him seem otherworldly. He flexed his arms and torso, as if he hadn’t moved so freely for a long time, and then the male began to speak. Leila could not understand him, but the ghostly female did. “All men want to be me and all women want to be with me. That is why I am everyone’s favourite. I am known as ‘Father’ to many. Zeus to my family.” Leila stepped away from Zeus. However, the female in the white dress moved closer to him. “Women exist for one function. To bear my children. With me, the question is not if I can get you pregnant, it is instead when. When do you want me to get you with child? Now or later?” Leila took another step back. Intense blue eyes moved from Leila to Persephone. “Persephone. Come to me.” The female in white moved towards Zeus. Leila watched as the pale-clothed female moved as if in a trance towards Zeus. Leila shook her head. “No. NO!” Leila cried out, reaching out for Persephone’s hand, but Persephone was under the spell of the strange male. She shrugged off Leila’s hand and moved closer towards the shape-shifter. “Father,” Persephone whispered softly, and began to methodically discard her clothing. “No!” Leila tried to reach out again, but Persephone evaded her hand, and embraced Zeus. “I love you Father.” “You are pleasing me baby-girl,” Zeus replied, squeezing the female against his chest. “Are you here to get me pregnant again? Like you did when I was five?” Persephone asked quietly, her gaze wide, whole and unwavering. Zeus smirked and nodded. Leila eyed the exit of the crimson cave, then looked back at her potential assailant. ‘Shitbag alert! Shitbag alert! Shitbag is getting closer.’ Leila eyed Zeus’ long, curly pale hair and beard, which shifted from grey to silver. His heated gaze glimmered a topaz blue. Leila pulled her hand backwards. She was going to teach this perverted incestuous paedophile that Leila Rainsleigh is not to be trifled with. She pulled her hand back and threw it forward with her entire weight… And then Leila woke up in the safety of her bed. “Shitbag!” Leila hissed, balling her hands into fists and rubbing her eyes. “Ugh, only I would dream about a paedophile. So gross.” Leila threw the dark duvet to the side and got out of her bed, padding out of her messy room, and into the bathroom. Once inside, Leila stared back at herself in the bathroom mirror. Wearing a long and comfy black t-shirt over her black underwear. She realised she still had make-up on from last evening. “I look like s**t,” she spoke to herself, washing her face before using her make-up pallet, adding foundation, lip gloss, mascara and black, winged eyeliner. Leila padded from the bathroom, down the hallway, past the living room and into the small kitchen. She looked in her fridge and withdrew a cup of red jelly. The lid was ripped off, thrown, tossed into the bin, and a small pink tongue went into the jelly. Jelly for breakfast is not a normal breakfast. However, Leila was far from normal. She gazed around at half of the unfinished canvases, and then at her timetable. English exams are done. As are media studies. “All I have now is to take my Art exam, then everything is over. Finally.” Leila finished her breakfast and sat in her favourite blue chair. She lay back and thought of her weird dream. “Do not fear, I am capable of creating miracles. I got my own 5-year-old pregnant.” “Shitbag,” Leila muttered, remembering her horrific dream. "Something I should speak about to my therapist. Sigmund Freud analyse this. Only I would have a dream about a paedophile. So gross.” Leila stared back at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wore a black T-shirt and black shorts and makeup from yesterday. I look like s**t. She spoke to herself, washing her face before using her makeup pallet and putting on more makeup. She looked in her fridge and withdrew a cup of red jelly. The lid was ripped off, and Leila’s tongue went into the jelly. Jelly for breakfast is not a normal breakfast, but Leila was far from normal. She gazed around at half the unfinished canvases, and then at her timetable. “English exams are done. As are media studies. All I have to do now is take my Art exams at college, create my final piece, and then I am done.” Bus or walk to college? I can skip the overly talkative grannies and the chance of chewing gum finding its way into my hair again like last time. She exited her home, only to see an owl flying away at her window. 0o0 11th April 2025 Location-United Kingdom Rugby college Art Class In a classroom made of coloured glass, an Egyptian monk robed in gold from the old world seeks to pass on wisdom to the new. “I wish to become what I once was, even though I have lost all the pieces that once made me whole. For many a generation, I have cast light across the darkest chasms of the universe, to recite a message that can never be forgotten, even by those born of a black will. Those who create light in the dark are known as our supernovas. Supernovas are a catastrophic seraphic of the Cosmos, the origin of chaotic death. All whose will is bound to this frequency can all return into a state of mutable consciousness, and thus open the doorway to -” “What crap are you talking about?” Monk Tho paused during his recital. His calm, blue eyes fluttered towards the source of the disruption. As always, it was the same porky-faced male at the back of the class. Etaru was a stout, dark-haired boy with very prominent dyed eyebrows of red and hazel eyes that could shift any calm moment into an unforgettable storm. Unlike Tho’s other well-behaved students, Etaru’s anger could even test the Buddha’s patience for calm. “Etaru, can you please elaborate further on your thoughts?” Tho asked the dark-haired male, placing the black shard of meteorite back inside the glass box on the table. “Everything you say is made up. How can you find any knowledge by touching a stupid stone? This art class makes no sense. You make no sense.” “This is no magical school young master. This is the Higher Arts, an awakening of the higher conscious mind. This rock was found at the remains of a meteor crash site and the words I speak have been awoken by the sentient energy emitting around this precious piece of history. When your eyes awaken to the same enlightened state of higher consciousness, you too will be gifted with the same eyes as mine. " Etaru glared back at the teacher. “Keh, as if I want the eyes of an old fart who baffles the blind with bullshit. I worked out your secret old man. There is nothing new you can teach me about art. I am thankful for my father’s position on the Art Council because it has enabled me to have many benefits, such as the position of Chief Designer for the Central Water Fountain in Central Park. I know for sure that my father did not need to prattle about any metaphysical cack to get me the job. My talents with the pencil got me there instead!” Tho nodded calmly in agreement with the teen’s obvious bragging. “You know, I hold a lot of respect for your father, Etaru. He was kind enough to fund last year’s art exhibition in America. But I am indeed quite curious. What new artistic stance will you offer to the reconstruction of such a famous water fountain?” “Well, come over to my table and take a look,” the teen bragged loudly. "I have finished over forty sketches, each taking at least six hours. I am proud of all I have created.” “Hm I see,” Tho approached Etaru’s table. He opened up the teen’s black A3 portfolio and his calm gaze scanned the different images collated together in a variety of mediums. “Hm, I cannot deny your artwork offers much detail to the eye, but to the soul… hn, I feel a lot of disconnection in your work. What do we have here? Phallic epitaphs in dedication to the fall of man? And what of this abusive mix of line and pattern? This odd composition offers no greater depth of intelligence to the Art-world than a monkey rolling around on coloured toilet paper.” “You dare insult my art. My Art represents the ‘Atrophy of Man’. I need no stupid eye to awaken this truth. All I do is practice, practice and practice. Through practice, I mastered my skills as a professional artist. I need no fool to teach me how to draw. My father believes in my work, and so do I.” “I see. But if a water fountain is meant to represent all things clean and pure, why have you dedicated such baffling monstrosities to it? It seems the Great Eye eludes you. Perhaps I can be of assistance to you. Have you been thinking of your mother again, Etaru?” Hazel eyes lit up with rage. “None of your f*****g business!” “Hm,” the teacher stepped back and watched calmly as Etaru threw his pencils back inside his pencil case, and snapped his portfolio shut. He grabbed his thick, black coat and whipped it around his shoulders, too impatient to use the armholes. “Perhaps you should go for a walk Etaru and clear your head. You know the Great Eye eludes all who seek anger and fear. Feel free to return to the lesson when you have calmed down.” “Shut up! All you talk about is bullshit! Why are any of us here? This withered old fool cannot teach you anything you don’t already know. Don’t you realise he is tricking all of you?” The monk shook his head in disagreement. “How do you think the minds of great artists like Michelangelo and Leonardo were awoken? By sheer practice? By putting pencil on paper and conforming to the same mistakes and limitations that preceded them? The answer is-.” Etaru refused to listen to anymore. He stormed out of the room as if heading towards another battle. Monk Tho admired the swaying conifers in the autumn breeze, the yellowing of the leaves, welcoming the harvesting season. “-no.” Monk Tho shut the door behind Etaru’s exit, then gazed at his remaining students. ‘Back to work.’ He shook his head. His attention returned to the lesson. “I have a task for you all. I will turn off the lights and I want to see who can paint without light. Assemble what you need, you know where the canvases and paintbrushes are. If it is your first time painting in the dark, I recommend one colour first. Those who complete the lesson to my satisfaction will pass. Those who cannot will fail.” The four remaining students scurried to collect the necessary equipment. The lights above were dimming. Curtains covered the windows. The young artists were not ready and yet Monk Tho felt confident. “Ah yes, luminous paints. That is a clue. You can paint anything as long as it is connected with the theme ‘The Great I Am’.” There was a nervous gulp at the front of the class from Unith. “It is hard enough to create with light, but without light? Impossible.” “I know what I am painting.” A slender brunette with piercing green eyes collected her tools together. “A golden cornfield at nighttime.” The brunette chose her colours, a cobalt blue mixed with a little titanium white. White stars. Green leaves and stalks and luminous golden corn. As an afterthought, she added a little golden farmhouse. When she finished, the lights were turned back on. Everybody else in the room did abstract, only the brunette dared to attempt realism. “Oho, now I can see all of your full potential,” Monk Tho answered happily, turning the lights back on. His gaze settled on a slim, dark male. “Pole Rewio, explain your composition.” A floral scented male spoke eloquently. “I painted Buddha. Siddharta Gautama meditating in the dark in an abstract style.” Monk Tho frowned.“Ah I see.” To Monk Tho abstract was cheating others out of a realistic composition. “Fail. Abstract is not good enough. Next. Unith Doiim!” The shy boy at the front of class cringed. “I painted candles in an abstract way.” ‘Ugh abstract.’“Again fail!” The blue eyes of the teacher settled upon a red haired bob and her black and white pinstriped dungarees, and then at her composition. “Isa Larrassi…what is that?” “It is my future wedding dress with neon green ducks hanging off the veil. I chose the style of abstract as I was painting in the dark and-” “-failed,” Monk Tho finished with a yawn. There was only one artist left. She sat at the back of the class wearing purple jeans and a loose cream shirt. “Now Leila Rainsleigh. Let us see what you have created.” “I wanted to paint hope… Even in a dark place, let there always be light, whether from the stars in the sky or the flickering candelabra inside the tiny farmhouse. I am light.” Monk Tho stared at the composition and muttered under his breath. "You’ll be so wanted by them.” Leila blinked. ‘Huh? Wanted by who?’ Blue eyes peered into Leila’s composition. 'By those who have been watching you.' 'What?' 'You will see.' 0o0