Art was dead

Art was dead. Sinistra rushed down the empty corridor having as the only source of light a small mercury lamp. This night the Gallery have received a new painting of Mother Akte, the Goddess of Nature. Sinistra was to be the first to watch it. And maybe the last.

Suddenly she stopped as her lamp lighted one of the paintings on the wall. She pulled the lamp higher for better recognition, while her hand instinctively moved to her vials. It was a portrait of a king. His face surrounded by pearl silver hair was flawless, while his red eyes were gazing somehow… noble. But would this person be that rich, handsome and noble if he wouldn’t be born whom he was? Could this painting stimulate anything but envy?

Acid.

While the canvas was slowly dissolving Sinistra moved onto the next, sword battle scene. She hated those especially. They never showed the blood and misery, but only so called glory. How could one not perceive them dangerous?

Acid.

But those two were not what she came for. Akte’s portrait was twice as big as an usual painting. The young women standing among the fields of rising wheat was calm and full of beauty. Could the brutal force of nature really incarnate like that? But this painting didn’t show anything snobbish or cruel. She even liked it’s form and alleviation.
But there were times she had to put her emotions away.

Acid.

Hearing the forthcoming steps Sinistra moved to the window. Using a hook she swung down and rolled on the ground. She threw away her black cloak and acid vials showing a military uniform beneath.
‘General Khamila, we are late.’ Said one of her subordinates as she approached. ‘She escaped. And the art… is dead.’
Here she would tend to agree.