Tuesday, June 13, 2006

     Jules walked into his companies vacant apartment on 52nd street and Broadway. His heart had pounded the entire route here. He must know where Damian had gone. In the past couple of weeks, his partner and friend seemed aloof. All conversations about Jule’s impending marriage to Lucie seemed to upset him. Jules had always trusted in Damien’s loyalty. The one thing in his life he counted on was Damien. Lately, his romance with Lucie was all he talked about and Jules chalked Damian’s sadness up to losing his friend. There was now someone else. Any successful relationship only requires two. One was a lonely number.

     Jules entered the building, strolled by the doorman, who nodded knowingly, as he passed. The apartment was a company investment for out of town clients. Slowly down the hall. Room 2112, which was an ode for the Rush album of the same name. It was Damian’s and Jules’s favorite growing up. The key swiped effortlessly. Inside the quiet was disturbed immediately. The sounds of passionate love making filled the room. “Oh so it is a girl, that’s got him sneaking around so much.” Thought Jules.

And then it occurred, he could see the woman’s hair, she was facing the headboard moving very slowly, taking her pleasure from her lover. Not like most woman, she took her pleasure. Slowly the pain grew. His heart sank in his chest. All that he held dear, slipped from his finger tips. This couldn’t be, no this must be wrong. He prayed with all his heart that it wasn’t her, but it was. Her moans kept rising, he called her names, she begged him to call her worse.

Damian thrust from the bed, carefully lowering his lover onto her stomach and from behind took her. Her face as angelic as it had always been. From the one couch in the room Jules could see her, but she would never see him. Betrayal is a strange consequence, you must be sure that you can handle your decision in the morning. And as Lucie moaned louder and gave way to her pleasure. Jules rose from the couch and went to the kitchen, searching with vigor, he found a knife. He thought about how much he loved both of these people, he thought about the deception. He was no killer. She however, the love of his life, the perfect immortal had forsaken all that she possessed for this lustful tryst.

When does love mean more to a person? In youth you like someone because of who they are, as an adult, it must be a packaged item. Lucie had no need for Jule’s money. She had her own although her art may have suffered since they had gotten together since then.

She suffered, so Jules must suffer, for Lucie to be rid of the suffering. Jules drove the knife hard into his abdomen. The pain was immediate, but nowhere near the psychological pain that he was trying to numb. Let her take her pain. She can’t give it back if I’m not here.

He moved to the couch and the blood poured to the wood flooring. As the last remnants of Jules life left his body, he lost all pity for Damian and Lucie. Pity stayed his hand when he plunged it into him, now she would feel as bad.

Lucie stood up from the bed, pulling her white silk robe on as she walked through the doorway. Two steps and she slipped in the blood and fell. She was immediately frantic, “What is this, My God!! what is…. she looked up and saw the man she loved staring back at her. No expression… just pity…a reluctant glare back from Lucie neither made him flinch or move. He was no longer there. Lucie began to scream she was all alone, expect for the blood…..

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

He gasped slowly and the words flowed cautiously, “Why?” is all he could muster. Damian’s life was at an end, and she stood above him watching the blood flow onto the white sheets of their bed. It was ironic and puzzling at the same time. In her mind she thought, “Am I really capable of this, or am I dreaming, yes that must be it dreaming.”

His eyes began to bat quickly then slowly close, until all motion ceased to continue. She took the knife she held in her hand, and headed to the kitchen. “It is now done, isn’t it.” I gave it back.” Lucie’s hand moved slowly with the knife in and out of the water, lightly touching the dried blood, the base of the sink ran light pink.

She continued to move the knife in a way that a skilled soldier would. She stared at it aimlessly as she moved around the room. She could see Damien legs sprawled from the edge of the bed, the blood spilling from his body to the floor. The sight of this made her lose her concentration cutting herself with the knife. “No more Damien, no more Jules, only Lucie remains. The pain is not gone. I can’t get rid of the pain.” As blood oozed from her own cut it dried to the edges of the sink. Mixed with Damien’s blood the color ran darker.

Lucie, washed her hands and finished cleaning the knife. She placed it on the edge of counter with the point facing out. She moved passed Damien one last time and looked at what remained. Still the pain stayed, in the past she had always been able to rid herself of it. Now it stayed. She moved to the door, took her coat, put each arm in carefully. Lucie opened the door noticing the blood left on the door handle as she turned it and walked out.

Friday, July 07, 2006

She was a protege’, a simple child that loved her father. In a way she was all of us. Her audience supported her, and wished for her success. No one really knew her. Lucie Dulgent was the most famous artist in 1973. A turbulent time, a turbulent artist. Her self effacing art brought most to their knees and unlike most artists, she became wealthy at the same time as her art.

My name is David, and I loved her from a young age. I loved her like the millions who loved Diana and Marilyn. She was that special, and to me as long as her work remained, she lived forever, until she dissappeared in 1976.

The scandal that destroyed many dreams and hopes drove her from us. I have always clung to her, thinking that one day I would find her and she would explain to me why?

“Art is only art, if someone will pay for it”. I understand that, I had no choice but to understand this. Klaus made me memorize this.

Indulgent Lucie or Lucie Dulgent depending on which newspaper or media outlet wanted to sell papers that day, was just that, the fantasy we all have, to make it big young, never have to work honestly. Getting up in the morning is for other people. Lucie lived this life, and her life was good, until she destroyed it.

She destroyed trust, reputations, and loyalty. The question still remains, “Could this really lead her to suicide and murder?” Most believed so, I never did until I started to investigate her life and the people she had left in a terrible riptide wake gasping for air….

© 2006 Indulgent Lucie written by Walter Willems