Parks have always fascinated me.  My favourite time is autumn when April turns to May.  I set up my easel in the park and paint whatever takes my fancy.

 

I always sit on the slope with my back to the ugly grey building behind the park.  The place disturbs yet intrigues me and I try to forget it exists.

 

The park is my own little paradise.  There I feel like a Botticelli.  I often wait until late afternoon before I begin to paint, when the air is still warm and the sun sends a golden glow over the landscape.  It's quiet then. The children and old people have gone home to tea and it's too early for the lovers.

 

In my room at the lodging house there's never any peace.  My landlady taps on the door at frequent intervals.

 

'Mr. Penniwissell,' she whines.  'Are you smoking?  Are you drinking?  Are you this - are you that?'

 

She knows I don't smoke or drink.  I couldn't afford to, nor do I want to.  All I live for is my painting.

 

One day soon I'm going to kill my landlady. A man can stand only so much. Even an undersized little introvert like me.  Snide remarks and sarcasm and being held to ridicule, I can tolerate that.  But last night, when the old harpy ruined my painting, that was the end of m patience.

 

She deliberately knocked over my easel, and trod on the canvas, and hobbled off cackling like a witch.  Or should I say bitch?  But I'm normally a mild mannered man, and I don't like to use bad language.

 

I went to the park this morning and a wonderful peace filled my heart. The sunshine was warm and I watched the little piles of autumn leave shifting softly in the light breeze.  The trees rustled gently, and the children played hide and seek.

 

Contentment filled my soul and I wanted to stay here forever and ever.  I waited all day to watch the last of the sun slanting over the trees and foliage, casting a magnificent golden haze over the scene.

 

The smell of the grass and trees, together with the breathtaking beauty of it all brought a lump to my throat and I began to cry.  I wanted to paint it all at once, that very moment!  I knew if I didn't capture it then it would all shift.  The gold would turn into shadows and it would be too late.

 

I picked up my brush, but my hand trembled so much that I couldn't hold it.  The image of my tatty--haired taunting landlady kept intruding on to the canvas.  If she could see me now she would stare through those horrible, glinty eyes and twist her pale, thick lips into a sneer and mock me.

 

'My!  Aren't we the famous artist!  And who are we today?  Giotto?  Such a beautiful blank canvas!'  And the old harridan wold hobble away cackling her ugly head off.

 

While I grew hot with hatred and frustration, the sun gradually moved away and the glorious colours faded.  I closed my fist and punched at the canvas, again and again. Then all at once I knew what I must do.  I patted my top pocket meaningfully.

 

Dusk had fallen quickly and I made my way to the park gates, pulling my collar up around my neck for a cool breeze had sprung up.  I was hungry too.  The stale sandwich Mrs. Hagg had given me was still in my pocket. It wasn't even fit for the mice to eat.

 

She constantly reminded me of the high cost of food and low rent I paid.  Low rent!  For that miserable fusty little room!  And I wasn't even allowed in there all day.  But that didn't worry me.

 

Only, by the time I paid board, there was no money left from my meagre income to buy extra food.  I needed more than the cabbage soup and stale sandwiches provided y Mrs. Hagg.  One day I'll sell a painting and I'll be wealthy, famous.  But for now I had to set my plan into action.

 

Deeply engrossed in my thoughts, I walked straight into the girl.  Looking up to apologise, I caught a whiff of her exotic perfume.  She smiled at me and my pulse beat high. She had actually smiled at me!  A seductive smile such as she might give to her lover or husband.

 

I ran my fingers around my collar and fought the constriction in my throat. I swallowed hard.

 

'Hello-o-o.'  She said it just like that.  Alluringly, as if my thin face and balding head made not the slightest difference to her.  I felt as handsome as Gregory Peck and almost as tall. She came closer.

 

'Are you an artist?'  She spoke almost in awe and my heart thumped like a ship's engine

 

'An artist?' I stammered.

 

She smiled again and it was then I realised she was Asian.  Her long glossy black hair hung loosely over her shoulders, and her olive skin was smooth and soft.  Liquid almond eyes shone into mine and I was overwhelmed.

 

In a sort of haze I noticed her dress.  It was plain and white and I was a little surprised, for she should have been wearing something glamorous.

 

She touched my face lightly with her soft fingers.  For a moment I wanted to run from this sensuous creature.  But though my feet were iron my legs were like feathers and I thought I would fall.  The girl moved another step closer. She glided rather than walked and her nearness brought the sweat pouring from my body.

 

'Where are you going?'  Her voice was silky and seductive.

 

'I'm going home.'  My voice rose several notes higher than normal.

 

She was so close I could feel her warm breath on my face.  'Don't go,' she whispered,

 

I looked around wildly, not knowing what to do or say.  My feet were still fixed to the ground.  I couldn't have been more scared confronted by a raging lion.

 

'I have to go home,' I muttered through dry lips. 'My wife is waiting.'

 

I don't know why I said that.  I've never even thought of a wife. No girl ever looked at me twice.  I was always too skinny, too timid, and nobody would ever look at me now.

 

'Your wife!'  The girl looked almost disappointed.

 

It didn't make sense.  A beautiful young girl talking to a nondescript little man like me.  She looked as if she could have the earth for the asking.  She drew my canvas from under my arm.

 

'You haven't painted anything,' she said sadly, holding it up and cocking her head.

 

My heart gave an enormous leap.  I was an artist, and the beautiful creature was interested in me and my work.  It was incredible!

 

'No,' I said, with increasing wonder and delight.  'The scene was so magnificent that my fingers shook and I couldn't hold the brush.'  I began to cry again.

 

I know it was presumptuous of me to chat to this goddess, but she was so - enticing.  The top button of her dress was undone and my eyes fixed on her cleavage. She noticed my look and pulled her dress down a little further to expose the soft curve of flesh.

 

What was she trying to do?  Seduce me!  My pulses raced madly.  Though I'm a teetotaller I'd have given anything for a stiff drink just then.

 

'I must go,' I mumbled.  My voice was choked, but I didn't move.

 

'It's all right. I won't hurt you.  You funny little man.'  And quite suddenly she gave me a quick little kiss on the cheek.

 

Before I could recover from the shock she had flung her arms around my neck and kissed me full and long on the lips. With the strength of a tigress she pushed me to the ground, and began to caress and tantalise me with her soft slender fingers.

 

What happened then wasn't happening to me but someone else.  Floating in space, on a cloud, angels and ecstasy.  And when it was all over I must have slept for a short while. I awoke and the moon was almost full.  I sat up and called softly. The girl didn't answer. 

 

I groped around in the moonlight for my easel. It was beside me on the damp grass.  And so was the girl!  Her head rested on my canvas. She was quite dead!  I knew it instinctively.  She was lying in a pool of blood, only it looked kind of black in the light of the moon, and it had trickled gently all over my canvas.

 

I was so glad there was no painting on it to be desecrated.  I couldn't have borne that. My body shuddered violently.  A dream!  A cruel, wicked dream!  Then a flicker of a smile crossed my face.  It hadn't all been cruel and wicked.  Not all of it!  But it was terrible just the same.  Things like this couldn't happen to me, quiet unassuming Percy Penniwissell.

 

With a muffled sob I got to my feet.  Taking a handkerchief from my pocket I wiped the blood from my easel with unsteady fingers.  The moonlight drenched the park.  It was a perfect night for lovers.  Panic seized me and I began to run, the awful picture of the girl floating before my eyes.

 

I crept silently into the house and collapsed on to the bed.  The smell of blood would pervade my nostrils for the rest of my life.  I couldn't kill Mrs. Hagg now!  At least not the way I had planned.  I would find another way, but first I must recover from this trauma.

 

I fell into a short troubled sleep only to be awakened by the landlady's insistent knocking.  If I didn't answer she would simply open the door with her key and walk in.  I rolled off the bed and opened the door, doing my best to appear nonchalant.

 

'And what did we paint today?' she sneered.

 

Rage and hatred welled up inside me once more.  That beautiful goddess had to die instead of this old crone!   I began to sob uncontrollably.  For once the landlady looked non-plussed. She didn't know how to deal with a situation like this.

 

But I did!  A simmering volcano inside me suddenly erupted.  I sprang on her and closed my fingers around her skinny sallow throat, and slowly but surely crushed the life out of her worthless body.  She fell to the floor, her ugly face distorted in death. Her mouth was open, revealing her blackened, broken, witch's fangs.  

 

And I was satisfied.  They couldn't hang me twice.  When they pulled the knife from the girl's body they would know it was mine, for my name was on it.  It had been sharpened in readiness for my landlady, but it shouldn't have harmed anyone else while it was still in my pocket.  Somehow in the passion of our embrace the knife must have accidentally penetrated the girl's heart.

 

Some men wearing white jackets came from the building behind the park, after they found her body.  But they didn't hang me.

 

They merely gave me my goddess's room, and now I can paint and paint all day long and look out on to the park from my window.

 

Nobody ever disturbs me now.  It's wonderful!  Just wonderful!