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Her Very Own Wax Museum

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What's the best way for one to tell the significant other that one loves him or her?

I'd say that a wax figure is a pretty good way. Maybe not the best, but it works for me.

She doesn't really know, though. It'll be a surprise for her. Maybe she'd be a tad freaked out by the quality of my work; very few people could manage to achieve such lifelike wax sculptures like I do. Just look at this curly black hair, those delicious red lips, and those eyes... had you ever seen somebody as perfect as her?

I finished the wax figure, one more for the collection! My basement is starting to get cramped; maybe I should get the unrelated stuff out of there—shovels, Christmas decoration, old boxes. Not really my fault I'm so dedicated to doing so well in this hobby. I have lost count of how many wax figures I have made so far, but none of them are identical. Each one of them is special in a sense, each one commemorates a special moment in her life.

There's one for when she moved to the house next door. She had worn a beautiful red dress, and looked so young... hard to believe it was just a year and half ago. Another wax figure represents the first time we talked. I knew she had liked me, I could see it in her eyes. That slight cherry color on her cheeks; what can it represent, other than instant attraction? I captured the exact moment, forever immortal in wax. There's also one for when she started gardening. She's the only one who could make plants sprout from the soil of her garden. The texture of her clothes has been flawlessly replicated.

My ego tells me that I should show my work to somebody and get my name known. But my heart says that these sculptures are for me, and only for me.

And for her.

She came earlier. Apparently she plans to take a trip to some town far from here, and wants me to take care of her home. I'm flattered, I didn't think she trusted me enough for this! She's truly my other half.

Housekeeping is something really uneventful, but it wasn't all boring. I found a photo of her I hadn't seen before. It's when she married. She was really beautiful that day, and this photo will keep that beauty. But this also gives me inspiration; there's no way I won't create another sculpture styled like this.

She's returning tonight. I wonder if she brought me something?

In one week, it'll be February 14th. I think it's time for me to give her the surprise of her life. How I wish to see the admiration on her face when she sees my work! I have finished her head just now, and it's as perfect as the rest I have done. Some may think that I took an excessive time with the head, but it's worth it. In a bout of inspiration, I used old retails of white cloth to form the very same veil she had used that day.

Love really pushes one to be better.

I'm sweating, my stomach is full of butterflies, and I'm woozy. Nervousness, and on Valentine's Day, to boot.

I'm slowly carrying the finished artwork up to my living room. It's fragile, but it is, by far, my best work, my magnum opus. The light shines gracefully on the slick surface of her wax skin, and for a few seconds, I feel the impulse of kissing her in the mouth. I manage to contain myself since it's better to kiss the real one.

Aaaand... there, it's set. Inside the kitchen, as if she had just came back from her wedding to start cooking a fantastic dinner for two, without taking off her wedding dress.

You know, it isn't a bad idea. An intimate dinner for two, candlelight, roses... and a wax figure contemplating us, as a sign of our sincere love.

Knock knock. Who is it? It's me, darling. I didn't say that with those words, but she opened the door. There she is, looks like I arrived just when she put on her gardening clothes! She even has the gardening shears.

Small talk first. She says that her poinsettias are her pride, and that her mother recently called to tell her that she'd visit her in June. How's it that the most mundane events in her life seems so marvelous and beautiful to me?

Love, that is how.

She smiles sweetly when I invite her to drink a coffee. Oh, jolly day, she says that she had been waiting for quite a while for me to ask it! This is it, we're meant to be together. We go to my home.

I make sure she's on the living room, while I finish making the coffee. A cup or two, some cookies maybe, and then, the moment of the truth. I just moved the figure, so it isn't looking at the kitchen counter. I think that coming into the kitchen, and then directly seeing the face of the wax figure would be a more impressive way to show my work, wouldn't it?

I'm having the time of my life, just here, with a cup of coffee and a beauty in front of me. We have been in silence for a while already. It's time.

"So, I have a surprise for you."

She smiled. Yes, she smiled! She replied that she'd love to see it. I tell her to close her eyes, and let me guide her to the kitchen. No peeking, honey!

I slowly take her to the kitchen. She's giggling childishly, and I can't avoid joining her. We're two fools, giggling. And finally, she is face to face to her twin. I tell her to open her eyes.

I expectantly wait for her opinion. She is stunned, that is clear. Maybe the eyes on the wax sculpture are too lifelike?

She mouths, 'What the...' but she finally stammers, "Wow... that's me..." Well, who did you expect, dear? "It's..." She doesn't say anything else. She's staring blankly at the wax face.

Maybe she isn't impressed. I was sure it would work, but at least I have an ace under my sleeve. The rest of my sculptures! They may not be as good as the one in the nuptial gown, but the sheer number should give me some points.

"I have more in the basement. Come!"

She raises her eyebrows and smiles weakly. She hesitates, but opens the door to the basement. It's dark, but after she turns on the light, she can see her very own wax museum, all of it in her honor.

Now it's glaringly obvious she's impressed. She slowly descended into the basement, and approached the wax sculpture of her ready to do gardening. Her lips tremble, as she examines the wax clothes, identical to the ones she's wearing.

Are you proud of me yet, honey?

She touches the wax face of the figure. I'm holding my breath.

She shrieks.

"You creep!" is all she says, and then pushes the wax sculpture with all her strength. I... I didn't expect that. It falls, pushing a couple more. Luckily it doesn't cause a domino effect.

I run down to the basement. "What the fuck are you doing?! Have you gone mad?!" I shout. She doesn't reply; instead, she takes one of the shovels and starts to attack the wax sculptures with it. She screams, panicked, during her whole attack, and the only thing I can do is to step back to the staircase. I'm afraid of approaching her.

She continues until none of the sculptures are on their feet. She drops down the shovel, and runs upwards, to the kitchen. She doesn't even look at me when she bolts upstairs.

I approach the wax mess on the floor. Deep gashes on the torsos of the sculptures, tearing the clothes. One of the heads splattered and stomped, until it's unrecognizable. Several arms and legs, still shining, spread around the room. Very few of the wax figures are intact.

I take the time to put back on their feet the ones that can stand, but I can't avoid pitifully noticing how most of my work was destroyed in a matter of seconds.

What did I do wrong?

Nothing. I showed her a sample of my adoration for her, and she... she did this.

How could she? Doesn't she realize how much this meant for me? How much I wanted for her to appreciate her own body and face, even if it was a wax figure?

Obviously she didn't.

Ungrateful bitch.

I take the shovel, the very same shovel that destroyed my creations, grasping it strongly on my hands. I can feel the pain in my body and heart, while I go upstairs. It doesn't take me more than a few seconds to exit my house, shovel ready, and make a beeline for her home.

She'll be a beautiful corpse, no doubt of that.

And if during our last meeting she breaks, well, it won't be anything that some wax can't fix.

Written by WhyAmIReadingThis
Content is available under CC BY-NC

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