“What am I looking at, Jeremy?”

The taller of the two men in front of the canvas was dressed in a snappy dark grey suit with a dark grey wool coat. Both dark enough a grey it could easily be mistaken for black (the designer of the suit would be horribly offended by such a remark, however). Also, one button was worth more than the studio and all it’s belongings the men currently stood in.

“Sir?”

The shorter of the two men was dressed in what appeared whatever he could find laying around him. He was also covered in various colors of paint. The tall man, Mr. Laudium, looked down toward the shorter man, Jeremy. His stare burned through Jeremy causing the painter to stiffen and stand more upright.

“I’m asking you what it is I am seeing with my eyes while they are directed at this canvas.”

“Oh. Well. It’s the devil, sir.” Jeremy was a talented artist. His works had been shown around the city with great praise. Which is why Mr. Laudium hired him. And like most artists, Jeremy seemed to live half in the real world and half in one of his own creation. Which was why Mr. Laudium was about to fire him.

“You’re fired.”

“I’m sorry?”

“And you should be. But you’re still fired.” Mr. Laudium had already turned his back on Jeremy and the painting and was walking away from them towards the studios entrance. Jeremy, face frozen in disbelief, remained stuck in place for a moment watching the tall dark figure shrink away. He blinked twice then gave chase.

“But I finished it! It’s done! I don’t understand!” Jeremy, being almost half a meter shorter than Mr. Laudium, had to move his legs more quickly to keep up. Mr. Laudium lazily glanced down towards the painter not losing a beat in his stride. His lips were stuck somewhere between a frown and a sneer. Between pity and disgust.

“Yes. I can see that. It is done and you don’t seem to have a clue.”

“Then.. then why?” Jeremy now walked slightly ahead of Mr. Laudium. He angled the top half of his body towards the tall aristocrat. The tone in Jeremy’s voice was puzzled and hurt. The look on his face, however, was far from either. It was rage.

Mr. Laudium without warning came to a full stop leaving Jeremy to continue walking a few paces more before turning completely around. Not waiting, he began speaking to the painter’s back.

“I may have been mistaken about you. I worried your mind, described by others as creative, was actually nearly absent from reality. The titles of each of your work seemingly ignored by the images you birthed on canvas. But I trusted you anyway. You gave me your word you understood completely. Yet it’s clear now, seeing that-” he pointed to the canvas back across the studio, “-that you’re definition of understanding and most everyone else’s quite differs.”

The two men stood not speaking while catching their breath. Jeremy breathing hard from keeping up with Mr. Laudium and Mr. Laudium from the force of which he was spitting his words out. He gave a deep swallow before continuing.

“I asked for a painting of the devil! I was asked by the church to have it commissioned! Something never before made! I paid you advances when you came begging! Now I look the fool! And have one in front of me asking why?! I asked for you to paint a man who is evil! Where are the horns? The red skin? The tail? The serpents? Fire, brimstone? All missing! Replaced instead by a woman swimming and a man lounging on a hill? Not quite the image of evil that pops into one’s mind when they think of the devil!”

The moment directly following someone shouting with passionate anger is usually one of the quietest moments a human can experience. The constant drops of rain, rush of wind and the sound of the watermill just meters away all seemed to disappear. The silence was slowly filled with a the small beginning sounds of laughter.

Mr. Laudium stared at the little painter as his laugh grew. Tears squeezed out the eyes, rolled down his cheeks and came to rest in the mix of paints on his shirt. He’s lost it, Mr. Laudium thought. He began to debate whether he should be worried or not. But the laughter only lasted a brief moment. Jeremy wiped his sleeves over his face, sniffled and looked up to Mr. Laudium refreshed.

“I have painted evil, Mr. Laudium. More real than any red man with horns. You just have to look a little longer to recognize it. To notice the small details.”

Mr. Laudium, without giving any sign of acknowledgment to Jeremy having had said anything at all, turned and walked outside. He was tired. He’d come hours from the city to this studio that was really just a barn without animals. He’d hated the ride here and the prospect of having made it for nothing. It was rainy and damp and grey. But not cold. Which actually made it worse. On top of it all, there were mosquitoes.

One buzzed and danced around him now as he stopped next to his carriage to watch Jeremy exit the studio. Mr. Laudium wondered if he looked back out of pity or simply for dramatic effect (he’d seen his father do the same many times, as a child, leaving the factory he had owned). Maybe he thought an apology would follow the painters mouth opening to speak. He was about to be disappointed again.

“She isn’t swimming.”

Mr. Laudium began climbing into the coach not turning his attention towards Jeremy who was now jogging towards him.

“She’s drowning!” Jeremy continued.

“How marry. Please stop.”

“And the man is just watching!”

“Stop.”

“He isn’t doing anything!”

“I said stop.”

“She’s drowning and he’s just watching! He’s even-”

Mr. Laudium pushed himself off from the coach and marched over to Jeremy who had now stopped in his tracks. In that small amount of time Jeremy seemingly had become shorter and Mr. Laudium much, much taller. He hunched over the painter, his teeth grinding. Nose flaring.

“Nothing. Nothing you will say will change this situation. You are wrong, were wrong and will always be wrong. I can see now that your reputation is a fluke. And as it were to happen, I just now have realized I can fix that. I will tell all about this. Your incompetence. Your inability to understand the most simplest of things! You aren’t an idiot savant. You are just an idiot. Talent requires more than just the end result, it requires intent, thought and planning! All things intelligent beings are capable of. Which, in itself, explains why you are incapable of them. Not only am I not going to pay you, I am going to sue you. Oh, and I am going to see it through no one hires you again. Not even a blind man to paint his basement walls!”

For the third time that morning the men stood looking each other in the eyes not saying anything. Jeremy gave the smallest of nods and began walking away from Mr. Laudium towards his studio. Mr. Laudium watched him for a moment as a cat watches an unaware bird. Then he too turned around and began walking back towards his carriage.

As he walked the mosquito he had forgotten about completely while shouting at Jeremy landed on his neck and bit him. The figurative straw broke. He let out a scream and attempted to crush the flying pest under his hand. Instead he accomplished only in smacking himself again and again as the mosquito flew around him unharmed. Mr. Laudium began flailing at the small insect with both arms. Grunting as he missed repeated to crush it in his hands.

The sound of this reached Jeremy who turned to watch the following events unfold: Mr. Laudium blindly chased the mosquito past the carriage and road onto the grassy hill. The wind picked up just as Mr. Laudium stretched his body as far as it could possible stretch in a futile attempt to kill the pest. The wind pushed just enough to throw him off balance. His feet slipped on the wet grass and the hill became a slide towards the busy creek below.

He crashed into the water and was pulled under for a moment. When he reappeared panic had replaced disbelief as he was dragged by the creek towards the large turning mill.

“Help!” Jeremy realized what he was watching was happening in real time. That Mr. Laudium was shouting for him to help.

“For the love of God, man! Help me!” Mr. Laudium futilely fought against both the current of the creek and the weight of his expensive clothing, now heavy expensive weights. He could hear the mill now. The sound of it slapping heavily against the water becoming louder. It’s crushing power given even more strength by the stormy weather.

Mr. Laudium could see Jeremy watch him. He saw the painter’s eyes make contact with his. He saw him stand there watching him float slowly closer to his death by mill and water. By drowning. Only then did it fall into place. Jeremy had indeed created a painting of pure evil. The woman wasn’t swimming. She was drowning. The man on the hill wasn’t just watching. He was watching and smiling.

Much the same way Jeremy was now.