How many years does it take for an artist to finish his magnum opus? The Mona Lisa, one of the world’s most famous paintings, took Da Vinci up to 16 years to finish, and some argue the work isn’t complete at all.

I ponder as I lay another brush stroke, the slick layer of paint gliding effortlessly upon the large canvas. My years on this earth have passed the better part of half a century. My vision isn’t as good as it used to be, but still, I give my utmost attention to every detail. Some artists strive for realism, but I want to take things a step beyond, to explore a new world with every tool at my disposal.

The first step is to find a model. Someone who has the patience and dedication to be my muse for as long as my creation needs. I found this young, beautiful girl not long ago, and for my delight, she agreed to aid me with my mission of creating a masterpiece, but beauty fades with time, so I found a way to preserve it.

I needed more than just one, of course. It wasn’t easy gathering the rest; some resisted vehemently, and others refused. I found a way to convince them, however.

Then the issue came with the fact that none of them wanted to stay still. It was such a pain making them stick to the position I wanted them to. My ears are still ringing with their pointless pleadings. I remember the tears streaming down their eyes as I poured a boiling layer of wax over them to shut them up and keep them steady. Their screams were harrowing, but also exhilarating, like a symphony of pain and joy echoing throughout the corridors of my empty home. They should be honored to be immortalized in my piece.

I came to realize, as the years went by, that my only company was the decaying carcasses that once served as my muses. The stench has become unbearable. I sit here alone, admiring their rotten beauty, vermin worming upon their empty eyes. Oh, how I long to share my work with the world, but I’m afraid my atelier has also become my prison. I never found much success as a young artist. People never cared about my work, and as the age of the machines approached, my work became obsolete. No one cared for my art. Sharing my work was similar to screaming into the void. I felt so hurt when nobody cared about the life I’ve poured into my paintings. All the hard work, all the decades I spent in perfecting my work, all gone. Everyone I knew left me for some reason or another. I have no family.

The only thing I have is you. You are not going to leave, are you? For me, you are the most important person there is. My centerpiece. You won’t run away. You can’t run away, that’s why I had to get rid of your limbs. Hush now, it’s almost over. When I’m gone, your prayers will fall upon deaf ears. Just sit there quietly on the pile of corpses and let me finish my magnum opus. It’s going to be my best work so far.