Graces

a short horror story

This story was written by

Kathrine Elaine

for the retracted Macabre Monday contest themed: “statues”.

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⚠️ Please be advised: this content contains graphic content and adult themes. Read at your own discretion. ⚠️

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Beautiful, my beautiful! Graceful! You were born for beauty, my dear…

He was at it again, cussing, and breaking plates. Shards all over the floor. 

You are bound to become beauty… come, don’t wait until time consumes your youth…

More cussing. Why is the dinner cold? Where is the beer? Where are my damn socks, Layla?! 

You sound like a song, your porcelain skin sings, Layla. Your name is beauty…

The glass shattering woke Layla from the daydream of Enzo’s voice, humming in her ear. 

“Come, here, Layla! You’re useless!” Ricky bellowed, his voice cutting into her brain like a blunt knife. 

Layla got up, left the crying baby strapped in her chair and tip toed to Ricky to the other end of their trailer. 

“I want a beer, Layla! Now!” 

She grabbed the can on her way. Ricky had thrown her shoes out the window. The shatter-covered floor waited for her to cross it barefoot. 

“Now, Layla!” Ricky yelled, sitting on the couch. She had to do it and do it quick. Ricky yelled, the baby cried, porcelain and clay, and her pain… Layla gritted her teeth and let the shards cut into her skin. She didn’t even try to avoid it, the pain was liberating, each oozing drop of blood released her from the burden her life had become. Ricky’s everlasting love was a lie, but his bad habits and violent, unforgiving nature - the cruel reality. Black-eyed mornings looking at the mirror after heavy-handed nights. Baby sucking the life out of her with every sleepless hour. She saw her beauty fade, standing by the tiny mirror of the trailer bathroom.

Beauty, you are beauty in the flesh… Enzo knew the true meaning of beauty. His life was a form of art, from his posh uptown studio to the clothes he wore - silk shirts and velvet pants, everything was carefully chosen, delicate, clean, everything was elegant and decadent. He paid good money. A beautiful sum, he paid by the hour, but he never hurried. Layla needed the money for food, for the diapers. Ricky didn’t care. 

Layla dropped the baby off at her mom’s tiny apartment every time she went to Enzo’s studio to pose.

Should’ve moved to her mom’s, but Ricky would get them. He would get them and kill them. Ricky said so himself. He wasn’t afraid of jail. 

Layla made it to him, with the soles of her feet bleeding, the tiny shards digging deep into the flesh. 

Ricky grabbed the beer, opened it up, gulped and belched.

“Come, here, babe!” He grabbed Layla by the waist of her jeans and pulled her closer.

“But the baby!” she objected.

Ricky didn’t care. He never did. The baby could cry her lungs out, he wouldn’t hear her. He pulled Layla’s jeans down and undid his own. She let him. He did it and he did it quick. 

Ricky kept gulping his beer right after, with his pants down, while Layla pulled up the remains of her strength along with her jeans and waded back through the shards. Back to the starving baby, purple-red-and-blue from crying.

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“You are flawless, a living work of art…”

Banging on her door like every evening. She knew there was no point in hiding. She had nowhere else to stay.

“Beautiful, graceful Sienna! Your shape is perfection. Your skin is the finest velvet…” 

She got up and unlocked the door. She did it herself. 

“Come, girl! Oh, don’t look at me like that! You know I would do it myself, but… you are younger. We make as twice as much, girl!” Auntie Shawna said sweetly. 

“You are made for beauty, Sienna, never forget that…” Enzo’s voice soothed her thoughts. He was gentle. Gentle and classy. He was an artist. Enzo created beauty. He depicted Sienna’s body in the most beautiful sculptures. He did beautiful things to her. Unlike those men. Auntie Shawna drove her to them. Auntie Shawna took the money. They did ugly things to Sienna’s body. 

Sienna limped out of that house once again. Hurt, cut, bruised, beaten. Her body ached from its core. Auntie Shawna picker her up.

“Come here! Ain’t you the slowest girl I’ve ever seen? And the money?!” She asked before letting the girl back into the car. Sienna gave it. The money for letting her body bleed.

Enzo’s money was different. He never touched her unless she wanted it.  Sienna was saving the money for the plane ticket to fly far away, back to the sunny island where she was born. Poverty was better than the good life with Auntie Shawna here, in the big city.

She stood by the mirror. Memories of ugly hands touching her body, made her stomach churn out the remains of dinner into the sink. 

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“Mia, my Mia… you are a wonder of nature! Beautiful, graceful Mia… your hands are masterpieces of nature…”

A hit. Then another, and another. The metal cane bashed over her stretched fingers. Her body flinched, but not a sound broke from her lips. She held her fingers steady, she did it herself. Father knew no mercy. Only perfection would do. 

You are a wondrous creature, Mia! A beauty, you are one of a kind!

The memories of Enzo’s deep voice and his gentle hands stroke Mia’s thoughts. He never hurt her. He made her feel loved. 

“You are bound for eternal beauty, my Mia. “

Bash! And another. Tears sprung from her eyes, though her fingers remained stretched. 

“You have to be the best! You’ve failed again, Mia! Stupid girl! Why am I wasting all this money on private tutors?!”

Father was right. Coming second best in her exams was not good enough. She would not get into medical school coming second best.

“Lovely, beautiful, my Mia…” Enzo’s voice kept her sane. She lied to her father to visit Enzo’s studio and pose as his model, instead of going to her tutors. 

Mia had seen the ad hanging on the wall in her high school - models wanted, age 18+. Mia wasn’t smart enough. The second best didn’t get the scholarship. If Mia saved enough from the money Enzo paid her, father wouldn’t have to pay for her studies. 

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Enzo’s eyes beamed when Layla entered his studio. He was a perfect gentleman. He saw Layla had been crying, but he never asked questions, and Layla preferred it that way. She didn’t need therapy or pity. At least not from Enzo. Admiration and desire poured from Enzo’s eyes, and that’s all Layla needed. He treated her as a work of art. 

Enzo had a routine; Layla knew it well. When she took her clothes off to pose nude, the first thing Enzo did was treat her wounds and blisters if she had any. Layla usually did. Enzo held her hurt feet gingerly, cut by the shards just earlier. Her socks were blood smeared all over them. Enzo smiled and treated her wounds gently. His touch was healing. His models had to look perfect, and he made sure they did. 

“You will pose sitting today,” he said softly. Layla’s eyes replied with silent gratitude. 

He captured her shape in clay, Layla observed Enzo’s strong hands gliding over the moist surfaces. Her heart raced with desire. Watching him work was even more sensual than making love to him. Layla was barely breathing, anticipating the moment he’d step back from the sculpture, wash his hands, and approach her. His dark eyes would always pose a wordless question, his pose almost timid. Layla was the one throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He smelled wonderful; the touch of his strong, warm hands was magic. His masculine body tanned and flawless. Enzo was perfect and he did everything to make Layla feel good. Making love, just like everything else in his world was a form of art. 

But this time was different. After they’d made love and Enzo brought her tea while she still laid in the silk sheets of his bed, Enzo gave her a document.

“I have a preposition for you Layla. Please, read it and think it through. I will be waiting for your decision the next time you come,” Enzo said silkily. Layla knew their session was over, when he left the snow-white envelope with cash discreetly on the bedside table and left the room so she could get dressed. 

Layla read the paper again and again sitting in the dirty bus. The piss-stench hit her nose; public transportation still was the dirtiest form of travelling. 

The first thing drunk Ricky did was whammed her face as she entered, for no reason. Layla sat on the floor and swore to herself never again. Never more.

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“Think it through,” Enzo’s voice hummed as he left Sienna sitting in bed with the paper and a jasmine-scented teacup. Sienna read the contract trice as she rode home to Auntie Shawna. The drunks and the thugs pushing her around the subway, whistling and calling her names, until she made it through.

“We have a big night tomorrow, girl! My friend arranged you to star in a movie! You’ll be a movie star, girl!” Auntie Shawna rejoiced. Sienna knew what kind of movies Auntie was talking about. She saw Auntie counting a big stack of money in the kitchen. She had sold Sienna already. 

Sienna sat on her bedroom floor, and swore to herself - never again, she ain’t no whore!

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Enzo caressed Mia’s hand as he left her with the paper.

“It’s a serious decision, Mia. Think it through,” Enzo said lovingly. Mia inhaled the scents of the studio - jasmine tea, Enzo’s cologne, the smell of his sweat still lingering on her skin. What if she could inhale his scent forever? Why not?

She made it home on time just barely. Or so she thought. Her father had a different idea of punctuality. She was supposed to be by the dinner table by seven, not still taking her shoes off. He raced through the hallway and bashed the metal cane over her head. Mia grabbed her face crying and ran to her room. Luckily father didn’t follow; his dinner was getting cold.

Mia sat on the floor with blood dripping from her nose. I can’t do this anymore, she thought. No more. 

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Two days later three young women met in Enzo’s studio. As they sat silently, their eyes met with mutual understanding of what pain means. No hope was in their eyes. Layla - black-eyed, beaten like never before. Ricky was in a bad mood; full moon made him nervous.

Sienna - her dark skin torn by whips and cuts, the “filming” had to look real, no make-up artist would be hired for this kind of “underground movies”. 

Mia with her broken nose and eyes full of shame - father had visited her at night just to prove his point. 

Enzo stood in front of them, a cherry-coloured silk shirt revealed his chest, he looked festive.

“Have you thought about my offer? I will not force you to anything,” he said gently.

“Will it hurt?” Mia asked.

“I promise you won’t feel a thing. You’ll fall in a peaceful dream,” Enzo replied.

“Will he get what he deserves?” Layla asked with bitterness.

“He will pay in full.”

“Will… will I live forever?” Sienna stuttered meekly.

Enzo smiled heartily, looking deep into her brown eyes.

“I promise, your beauty will be admired forever.”

Enzo glanced over the three.

“Please, think again. Once I begin, there will be no way back.”

Layla remembered Ricky’s fists slamming into her flesh, his hideous beer-scented breath. The baby crying restlessly, demanding more than she could give. Layla took the pen and signed the paper. This decision she made herself. 

Sienna felt their dirty whips tearing her skin. Auntie Shawna’s sweet smile when she took the money. Sienna clutched the pen and signed the contract. She did it for herself.

Mia’s fingers twitched from the regular beating. Her nose was swollen. She signed without hesitating. The decision between a miserable existence and a glorious death was easy to make.

“Thank you, my beautiful Graces. Let’s begin, shall we?”

All three took off their clothes and laid down on white sheet covered mattresses amidst Enzo’s studio. He approached with a tray. Three syringes were on it. Enzo injected each woman with the powerful sedative, it slowed down the heartbeat and blood flow, until eventually and very slowly it would cause the heart to stop. But the best quality of the drug was, it made the body stiff, yet workable. Like a doll. He adjusted their poses quickly, before their limbs went stone stiff. Enzo caressed them. He was gentle. The three women laid with their beautiful eyes wide open - they fell into a forever-daydream, a gentle euphoria and dreamt with their eyes open. Enzo got to work. He had to do it fast - his solo show was tomorrow night. He shaved all their hair off; he covered their bodies with a special primer to make the damaged skin perfectly smooth. His brush glided over every curve, while Enzo hummed beautiful words in their ears.

Layla’s body he coated in a layer of porcelain and gold leaf, the meticulous work took up many hours, but Enzo was not done yet. 

Sienna’s body he covered in glue and velvety terracotta dust. He applied bronze leaf as well.

Mia’s body shone in pearl-shell pigment and silver leaf. The graceful poses emphasized the flawless beauty of the natural bodies. Enzo didn’t eat or sleep until he finished work. By the time he finally sat down to have his jasmine tea, the couriers had arrived to take his masterpiece to the art gallery. He made sure the sculptures were delivered to the destination carefully. He himself arranged three horizontal pedestals to lay them down. He adjusted the lights to show off their beauty perfectly. Only then did Enzo return to his studio for a quick shower and some urgent phone calls.

When he returned to the gallery, the guests had already gathered, the fine public mingled and observed Enzo’s art idly, but when they glanced over his central piece - a sculptural installation called “Graces” they stopped in silent awe. The three sculptures depicted flawless beauties lying idly, with their life-like eyes frozen in a lengthy daydream. The guests were amazed at the realistic depiction. It even appeared the chests of the sculptures rose and fell as if breathing softly. Praise showered Enzo from head to toes all night long, but he brushed it off decadently. When he made his speech, Enzo spoke of the flawless beauty of natural woman’s body which he tried to preserve from ageing and decay. Of beauty that saves from misery. Of beauty as an antidote to death. He spoke quite openly - Enzo thanked his three models Layla, Sienna, and Mia for donating their bodies to create this art. The people applauded and cheered bravo! They heard what they wanted to hear. They praised Enzo, cameras flashed, Enzo raised his glass of champagne with a toast to beauty. Enzo had cemented his artist career overnight, most of his sculptures were sold within hours. Only “Graces” he refused to sell. 

A restless night overtook the city. Enzo did his part of the contract. A man, a resident of the trailer park was murdered brutally that night. Violated and beaten up by the Italian mafia, they say. His feet were cut with glass shards. His daughter was adopted by her grandmother, and a mysterious patron donated a generous sum for the child each month. 

An elderly woman in the slums arrested for trafficking young women and creating illegal pornography. Sentenced to many years in prison afterward.

An honest working-class man, a widower and a father murdered brutally by beating to death with a metal cane. 

Nobody cared for these ugly everyday stories. Enzo’s artwork graced the front pages of journals and newspapers. A homage to the legendary sculpture “Three Graces” by the neoclassicism author Antonio Canova. Beauty divine, they said. Lifelike wonder of Enzo’s sculptures fascinated people, they stared at the beautiful bodies, while the three Graces were slowly overtaken by death in front of their eyes. Enzo’s sedative was also his creation, it mummified the bodies, preventing the stench of decay. There was no place for the ugly side-effects of death in his world. Beauty preserved forever. Layla, Sienna, and Mia faded, but their beauty did not. The expression of euphoria was forever captured on their faces and Enzo’s calming voice hummed in their ears until the end,

You are beauty eternal, you are never-ending grace, you are a work of art, my Layla, my Sienna, my Mia…