"Suffering." the plaque read below the artwork, crowds of people surrounded the evocative painting, many would choke it up to modern art but the more they watched the more there was to discover.
The white canvas was drenched in deep red splodges, there were outlines of people in them with tiny red hand prints pressed onto the fabric of the canvas surface, if art-goers were to get in close they could make it out the words "Send help." next to one of the body shaped splodges.
"This piece by Tabatha Reigns you'll find to be quite dark yet enthralling, the piece depicts the death of a few people in various ways, she used a deep red to portray the blood of the humans, each body and blood pattern telling a different story. The red contrasts heavily with the white canvas allowing us to see the patterns clearly and feel the energy of the blood from the people. This one to the left has a long smear that fades as they dragged themselves trying to get to safety. This middle one has messaging on the canvas as if calling out to help, this one is simply surrounded by a splat of red liquid as if they didn't move at all, if you look closely you can also see the details of their face in the head area. It's a super detailed and symbolic peace about the suffering of other lives. How she got these details so accurately is what makes this piece so delicate and engaging to look at." the tour guide enthralled the audience with his description of the paintings, the more they looked at it the more they understood its power.
"Let us continue" the tour guide called the crowd over looking at more of the art pieces in the gallery.
The piece was handed over to the gallery quite quickly after its creation, Tabatha had connections with this gallery, and many of them across the world wanted more of her stuff but this place had always offered her support and funding for her next project.
It still surprised her how quickly they took a piece without scrutinizing the details, she'd never understood how she got away with it.
"Come on, crawl further!" the brown-haired artist screamed down at the minuscule man. He cried, his tears mixing with the red life liquid seeping from his wounds as he crawled along the perfect white canvas. He felt a deep pain in his wounds as they rubbed against the thick lines of the canvas. It faced upward toward the ceiling, Tabatha looked straight down from above, the painting in front of her feet, monitoring the tiny man to avoid him ruining her project.
The man reached near the top and then gave out, his body going limp on the painting leaving his blood-stained all the way behind him. Tabatha sighed and watched for a couple of moments before plucking him off it. His body left a nice trail down the canvas, it was evocative and showed quite a lot about his character, his determination and desperation were shown in the smear, the bitterness of how close he got to the edge of the canvas, to potential safety.
Tabatha tried to find new ways to evoke interesting stories on the canvas, new ways to show how people dealt with death. People always show their true colors in death and that's what she wanted people to see when they looked at her paintings.
The young adult pressed another tiny onto the canvas on his front, pressing him firmly against it with her index finger. She slowly raised the pressure until her finger shot through his bottom flattening his pelvis onto the surface. She nodded and headed away for a break. The man finally had an opportunity here to do something whilst he was away, he couldn't move, and lord knows if he tried he'd bleed further and put himself through further immense pain. He lifted his blood-soaked hand and wrote "Send help." in tiny text. Surely someone somewhere would see this message if the giant artist didn't, they'd send someone to look, wouldn't they?
Tabatha removed the second body, happy with the results, so long as it didn't mess with the other blood art elsewhere on the painting and showed different actions from the humans then it was a success. She was running low on space, having only one small white section to the right.
The young woman placed the third man on that spot, he watched her from below on his back with his hands up as if being stopped by the police. - "Please, I don't want to die. I-" he cried out.
"Shhhh." the woman interrupted. - "Your contribution to this piece will live on for longer than you would live for, you'll have a bigger impact here than anything you could do in the world out there." she explained passionately.
"This piece will be magnificent, you will be the third man. The first shows the desperation to live, the second shows the willingness to give one's life for the next person after them, self-sacrifice. The third..." Tabatha's emerald eyes squinted curiously at him trying to pinpoint what she'd show with him.
The man's mouth sat agape as if trying to say what he'd convey but he had no idea, he didn't understand any of this or what the whole point was.
"The third will convey the hopelessness of death, one got the choice to escape, and one got the choice to communicate." she looked down at him as she spoke with passion. - "The third will convey that sometimes life doesn't give you a choice." Tabatha raised her foot above the man causing his eyes to widen in panic as the realization set in, he didn't need to be a passionate artist to understand what was about to unfold. He quickly rolled onto his front to start dragging himself forward but the barefoot landed on his back.
Tabatha pressed hard as she looked at the canvas slowly watching the blood pour out from his body flattening the lower half of the body. What tale would his blood tell the audience?
The blood seeped out in every direction but it wasn't enough to illustrate a story, she lifted her foot, and the man kept shaking, his nerves struggling to communicate with all the pain receptors. Tabatha thought deeply about what would make this work as he suffered below. - "What if I..." she placed her barefoot back on him on his upper body this time pressing his face deep into the canvas. He screamed but only mumbles came out, the plucky young artist squashed hard to finish the job, crushing his body and face onto the art playground creating an immense splash of red.
The girl pressed flat making sure the details sank into the painting, she then lifted her foot from the piece peeling the man's body off with it unveiling her masterpiece. Darker spots of gore merged with the canvas lines, his facial features were visible in the head area from the crushing. - "Beautiful." she smirked, kicking her foot to the right sending his sloppy corpse crashing to the ground.
"We still do not know how Tabatha Reigns achieved this aesthetic however it is a staple in hyper-realistic violence which has been seen in many art pieces, blended with minimalism to create this gruesome piece about human nature." the tour guides constantly talked her up, about the mysteries of her work and the impressiveness of her techniques. However, deep within the gaps of the canvas was the DNA of the men smeared into the very painting lying in that museum and viewed by thousands each day.
Giantess World
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Thanks for reading. This one isn't anything serious or major, currently, I'm pushing myself to write more detailed and more condensed stories by doing challenges with the help of some friends. I figured I'd upload my favorites so you guys can get some enjoyment out of them. Let me know what you think.