From Pablo to Picasso

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Have you ever loved some one so much you wanted to destroy him? Picasso sure did.

He looked at his skinny, wrinkled hands. They were shaking. He tried to convince himself that none of these old mouldy boxes meant anything to him. Nor did it matter to him that she had died today. In fact he should feel happy;  now , after thirty-seven years of torture, he was finally free. He had won!  He had proved once again that he , Picasso, the greatest genius of all  , cannot be tamed by anyone. He was the bull , the minotaur, that seduced women in order to defeat them , destroy them , turn them into his slaves. His dark eyes sparkled with demoniacal pleasure. Yes, now he was free. Now he could , at least, marry Jacqueline; a twenty-eight year old modest girl , for whom he is a god. She dares not even to call him Pablo , she calls him ‘monseigneur ‘. Yes , he was her saint, her lover and her master. She would do anything he asked , she gave him her freedom, her life, asking nothing in return. NOTHING. Yes , that was what  a good wife should be like. Nothing but a shadow of her husband.

Picasso tried to smile but for some reason he could not . He looked at his pocketwatch . The funeral must have already  begun. Something similar to a smile reflected on his skinny face. No one will come , not a single human being . Not even their son . Picasso had forbidden anyone to come,  and no one dares not to obey Picasso’s orders. He himself told his friends that he was too busy with his prized  painting to attend the funeral. And it was true , but for some reason , he was standing there – in a dark, cold, dusty attic of theVauvenargues castle. The place he could not stand. The place he bought for her.

He looked around. The place was covered with dust and cobwebs. The wind was blowing through a glassless window.

‘What a shame she didn’t stay here,’ he murmured , ‘ this was a perfect place for her to live.’

His eyes rested on the boxes again. He came closer and touched one of the boxes . His hands started shaking again  and he had to make a great effort to breathe. Picasso closed his eyes and lay himself down on top ofa box . Now , not only his hands , but his whole body was shaking .

He  felt her touching his cheek. Heard her laugh.

‘No!’ he screamed. He opened his eyes and dropped down on the floor. Picasso hugged his legs with his hands. His gaze was running around the room ,avoiding looking at the boxes.

‘Bitch, bitch !!! Bitch! Burn in hell!!! Today is the happiest day of my life!  I am free! You think I care about that old stuff?’ He forced himself to look at the box he was laying on just few moments ago. Picasso had bitten his thin lip so that it started bleeding. He stared at that box with a rising roughness. His breathing became more intense. He jumped up so quickly  that his head started spinning. But he did not care.  He jumped on the wooden box  like a toreador  jumping on a furious bull anddropped it on the floor. The box crashed down and hundreds of ballet dresses and puants flew out in various directions. 

He stood numb for a few minutes, trying not to look at at  anything , but it was impossible as the whole attic was covered with the clothes. Picasso slowly approached one of the dresses and wanted to  kick it away,  but the dress stuck to his leg.  He lifted up the dress and was about to throw it away when suddenly his hands started to shake again. Picasso wanted to throw the dress , tear it apart , but his hand refused to obey.

Picasso fell to the ground, squeezing the dress with his fist. It was the dress.  Slowly ,as if it might bite him , he brought the dress closer to his face. Then,  shaking all over, he  closed his eyes and smelt it. Despite the odour of damp and mould , Picasso could swear he smelt the  strong scent of her perfume. Images started to reflect in his head.

Dark wavy hair. Olive skin. Ripe breasts. Tears falling down her cheek. Eyes full of hatred.

‘You can’t leave me!’ she cried.’Take me , take me as you  always do. ‘ She tried to kiss him.

‘Carmen , that’s enough! I’ve made up my mind. Get dressed for  God's sake!’he threw her  red gypsy dress to her.

‘I’m here to say goodbye. I've met a woman I truly love. I am getting married. Here , this money is for you. It’s enough to buy a place to live somewhere far away from here. Go away and start a new life.’ He put the money on the table.

‘I don’t need your shitty money, Pablo. I need you! You cannot fall in love with anybody but me! I am the only woman who can make you happy!.’

‘The only woman who can make me happy is called Olga Hohlova! And I’ll marry her once and for all!’ Pablo started to lose his temper. 

‘If you leave me, I’ll curse you! I’ll curse you both!’

Pablo left the room. As he was closing the door , he heard Carmen's hysterical laughter.

‘I’ll curse you both!’

Picasso opened his eyes. The white dress fell down onto his knees . He picked it up and held it with  both hands so that he could see the dress better. Although the dress  had become grey from dirt and dust, Picasso still remembered it as it was supposed to be, snow white.

‘What a lovely sunny day! Paris is so beautiful on days like this!’

‘Everything gets more beautiful when you are around.’ He kissed Olga.

‘Do you like it/?’ she asked giggling.

‘Like what? Your kiss ? Hmm, I am not quite sure , let me try it one more time!' He kissed her again.

‘No silly’ , she giggled again , ‘ I’m talking about the dress!’

‘Oh , you mean the one you’ll be wearing in the church? You know I prefer you  naked.’

‘ Pablo! That’s not funny! You have no idea how much time it took me to find the perfect snow white dress! And now you are telling me you don’t like it!’

‘You are right , I don’t like the dress, I love it! I love everything that is related to you!’ he took her in his arms and kissed her again.

'You are such a lickspittle’ she laughed. ‘ Look! The gypsies! Let’s get closer’. She dragged his hand towards the gypsy camp.

‘No!’ little drops of sweat appeared on Pablo’s forehead. ‘That’s silly! Let’s go somewhere else.’

‘Silly , maybe , but it’s fun! Look there. is a girl who claims to read the future from your palm! Let’s try her out! I’ll pretend to be a Spanish bohemian girl.\

No, please , honey , don’t go! It’s ..silly… waste of time..’

But it was too late . Olga was already standing in front of the gypsy.

‘I want to know my future!’ Olga declared straight away.

The gypsy , who was playing the flute,  took Olga’s hand.

‘What’s your name? she asked with a hidden hatred in her voice.

‘Carmen.’ Olga lied on the spot .

“If you are Carmen , then I’m Olga.’ The gypsy replied grumpily.

‘Tell me my future, please!’ Olga asked in an astonished voice.

‘ The devil is about to take your soul and will never give it back.  He will make you his wife and his muse. His love will poison your heart and you’ll become mad with love. Forever and ever.’ The gypsy laughed.

‘Your words make no sense!’

The gypsy didn’t bother to reply , instead, she took her flute and played the funeral march while smiling with her eyes. Her gaze was stuck on a man hiding round the corner. I’ll curse you both , she thought, and knew that the man looking at her from the corner knew exactly what she was thinking.

‘No!’ Picasso screamed in despair. The cold sweat was rolling down his cheeks. He wanted to throw the dress away but his hands refused to obey.

‘Pablo!’ Picasso could swear he heard quiet Olga’s voice coming from a little metal box hidden behind all sorts of garbage . Even though the old man could not see the box , he knew that the voice was coming from there.

He crawled through the scattered dresses , dug dogged into the garbage , until his fingers reached the metal box./ Olga’s voice was getting louder and louder., Carefully , as if the box contained a bomb , he pickedtook  it  up with his both hands.

The box was fullycompletely covered with the dust. He felt it going into his luongs.

‘Pablo!’ Picasso heard Olga’s voice right behind him.

All Sshaking all over , he turned around and saw Olga – young and fresh standing right in front of him. She approached him , sat next to him and touched his cheast. All of a sudden, he felt his heart started beatingbeat faster. The room recovered its colours.

Pablo , this place is amazing! And it’s all ours!’

‘It’s all yours my angel,.’, he replied softly. ‘You are the one that brings the light into my dark soul.’\

‘Your soul is not dark at all ,love.’ She gave him a soft kiss.

‘Mama! Papa!’ Little Paul ran into the room holding a wooden car in his hands. The boy gave hisd father a kiss and sat on Olga’s lapknees.’

‘Madonna with a child!’ Pablo exclaimed. ‘ More than anything in this world I’m scared of loosing you two.’

He heard someone laughing hysterically. , He turned his head and saw Carmen approaching him from behindthe back. Olga and Paul stood frozen while he heard Carmen whishpering into his ear:

I don’t think you can see the things as they really are , Pablo.’ With those words , the gypsy blewblow a smoke intoon his eyes.

The room tbecame aurned blur. It seemed to him that all the objects in the room startedwere starting to lose their shapes. Evertying seemed to mergemixed together. The only onesimages that didn’t change were Olga and Paul.

‘Can’t you see that all she wantneeds from you is money?’ Carmen went on.

‘Honey , Paul needs new clothes.’ Olga said all of a sudden.

‘Of caurse, dear.'  He replied.

‘Oh, and I need new clothes as well . I have absolutely nothing to wear!’ Pablo noticed a slight change in Olga’s voice.

‘All right.’

‘And, oh, I want you to paint me one more time , just ,for the godGod's sake, paint me as I am , without that childish nonsense that you claim to be your style.’ Olga’s voice now seemed to have totally lost its softness.’

‘But this is  my style! This is what makes me the Great Picasso!’

‘Don’t be silly, Pablo! There';s nothing great in your childish scribubles! Even  Paul can do better.’

Pablo felt the blood boiling in his veins.

‘See, she does not appreciate your tallent’, Carmen whishpered , ‘she is not the oneperson you think she is’.

Suddeanly, Paul dissappieared . Instead , Pablo saw a complete stranger snuggling his wife. He was kissing her shoulder with a great passion and Ol;ga was clearly  enjoying it.

‘How dare you!’ Picasso shouted in despair.

Olga’s face begaun to change.changing  Her rosy skin turned blue , one eye gotmoving to thea level of her forehead while the other remained unmoved. Her nose grewown enormously big aAnd herv lips turned tiny.

‘Pablo!’ the monster neighed, ‘paint me!’

‘My Ggod ,that woman has no shame at all.’ He heared seductive Carmen’s seductive  voice, ‘ She must be be punished. Don’t yopu think?’

‘Pablo!’ the monster spoke again.

‘Picasso!’ he shouted furiously. ‘ From now on Pablo is dead! There is only Picasso, the heartless genious’.

‘Punish her , make her suffer.’ Carmen insisted, blowing even more smoke intoon his eyes.

‘Pablo stop , that isn’t true , listen to your heart!’ Olga’s voice turnedbecame normal, but the image however remained disguasting.

‘The Great Picasso has no heart!’ Carmen reminded him. ‘Come on , show her you don’t need her!.’

Suddenly Marie-Therese, the seventeen years old athlete approached him. Her gay skiin , white cheeks and gracious body attracted the artist.

‘No, please, don’t!' Hhe heard Olga crying./

This sparkled Picasso’s desire even more. He started to make love withto Marie-Therese right on the spot. He didn’t care much about the sex ,the real pleasure for him was to hear Olga’s cries of despair.

Carmen’s victorious laugh reached his ears.

‘Stop that!' She exclaimed. Olga jumped on Marie-Therese , dragginged her away from \Picasso and the two women began to fight.

‘He is mine!’

‘No, mine!’

Picasso watched them with satisfaction. That was the real pleasure , to see two women were fighting for his love while he felt nothing forto any of them.

He turned his head, searching for Carmen but she was no longer there.

Younger and stronger, Marie-Therese has won against her opponent. She returned to Picasso while Olga remained laying on the ground.

Suddenly, Olga jumpedwas back on her feet and jumped on Picasso. She yelled at him , shouting meaningless words and sentences that made no sense. She spoke in three languages at the same time while Picasso was enjoyingenjoyed her despair, her ugliness and her madness.

‘Tell me why?!’ The monster yelled. 'Why , why ,why! I didn’t do anything!'

Picasso was looking straight into the eye on the forehead. He smiled evilly . He had won.

‘Diga me  je suis la only one!’ Olga cried.

‘I am the only Mrs Picasso!’ she slapped  Marie-Therese.

Marie-Therese said nothing in return. Instead she gave Picasso another passionatened kiss.

Suddenly Olga turned to Picasso. She blew made a blow and the smoke hanging in the room begaun to vanish.

The objects returned to their original shapes., Marie-Therese disappeared. Instead of a monster Picasso saw an old, red-haired woman, whose eyes were full of sorrow and loneliness.

‘Pablo,’ the woman said in a soft voice, ‘through all these years we haved been destroying each other. You can pretend howas much as you want that you are the heartless minotaur menotourus whose only dream is to make the women lose their dignity. But I know the truth;, it’s just a mask under which a very sensitive soul is hiding. Although you deny that you had ever loved anyone , I know for sure that you really loved me. Ten out of seventeen years we spent together were the happiest time of my life. And I know you feel the same way’.

‘ Believe it or not, but you were the only man in my life. I could never could really understand why you had any daubts. You brought a lot of pain to my life but I forgive you. Please , try to forgive to yourself.’

With those words she kissed him intoon the forehead and vanished into thine air.

Giant tears were rolling down Picasso’s cheeks.

‘Forgive me!’

He layid on the dusty floor, hugging the metal box with his whole body. The box that he was afraid to admit to bewas dear to him. The box that contained hundreds of letters from Olga.


Submitted: January 03, 2016

© Copyright 2021 Liana Smith. All rights reserved.

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