Alone Artist: P1

A Story by crazyhates

A young artist working for an atelier working for several clients, none of which would be considered 'normal'.

"1416 Townsend Road" was poorly written across the crumbled and slightly damp memo I fished from my pocket. That was the location of today's commission. It was only two train stops and a short walk from our atelier and in a relatively safe neighborhood so I took a little more time with my preparations. I arrived a later than specified, but the client, one who had been a repeat customer for the past five years, was known to be very merciful and graceful, yet a mysterious individual; merciful being a rare quality when compared to some of our previous clientele. No one had seen this client, only through the multitude of portraiture that hung within the halls of that dilapidated Victorian house could one obtain a glimpse at what would be an immaculate beauty in person. I had been to this estate only once before, roughly two years ago in the beginning of my apprenticeship. My teacher had decided it would be good for me to see how the commission work of the atelier was performed so I would follow her coattail, toting all the supplies as an impromptu pack mule, as we went from place to place. 1416 was the last commission she completed; she now sits at her desk, scrawling out often inexact and crudely written memos to thrust into the unfortunate hands of individuals employed in this dying line of work.