Trickster

My name is Adrian Black, only son of Mary and Adam Black and was born on the city of Elyria, Ohio; a town that had seen better days. A place where many grew up on but probably will never go back to.
Like me.
Because I was an exceptional child blessed with beauty, a voracious creativity and the infused fear of death.
This last one might have occurred because I lost my grandpa when I was about six or seven years old. We were very close and used to take me for long walks in Cascade Park.
Since then I secluded myself at home tormented by the thought of something wicked out there waiting to come and get me. Then in a dream it took the shape of the Black Rabbit; the infamous servant of the underworld from Watership Down.
My last name is my fate. Black is not a color: it´s the sum of all the colors and the abscence of all at the same time. I am nothing and everything at all.
I was everything I always wanted to be; a successful young painter based in New York with a big studio in the heart of Soho and about to present my greatest achievement in my career.
To quote Mattise, one my biggest inspirations, “An artist should never be a prisoner of himself, a prisoner of style, a prisoner of a reputation, a prisoner of success.”
I always thought I would live up to these expectations; to feel like I was in control yet such a thing needed to be won.
Fot the first time I felt wanted and was worshipped by many but on that particular September night at home I was
CONSUMED.
Daniel Hyde, a former assistant of mine commited the crime of falling in love with me. He was also very sure to have possessed me to the point of reaching creative control.
Until I beheaded him, metaphorically speaking, just fired.
The feeling of love has a friend that shows up every now and then called tragedy. And since tragedy is close to the concept of Death it´s pointless to me and it slows me down.
Discipline

It didn´t mean that I was a cold-hearted monster; I was just very disciplined. And it was here, in this decadent city that I would find the meaning of life. It wouldn´t be hidden in the depths of the crowded subways or in the words of some über experimented film critic; it was down a rabbit hole.

Daniel was about five years younger than I was and I fished him out of bunch of attention whores especially from NYU where I came from. Sometimes it was a steady, live in job, at others times per project.
I couldn´t deny he had the hots for me since day one  He was five foot ten, kind of scrawny, hazel brown eyes, dark toussled hair and a sweet ass.
At first he was very diligent and punctual trying to impress me and earn my respect. It was a damn good privilege already to live under such and expensive and constrained neighborhood. In the old days it was an artist´s haven and everyone was allowed to crash and pitch in every once in a while.
What he lacked in age he made up for in debauchery; he was my Mad Hatter and with him I attended one tea party after another. No harm done until then; I had a reputation to sustain and it continues to be flawless.
I was working hard on a new collection of acrylics that would be shown in a new gallery in Chelsea. Being left alone used to be some kind of comfort but at that moment it felt like pulling the plug after a coma.
I needed to clear my mind and focus on finding a replacement for little dweeb; someone who wouldn´t prey on me and knew little about me.
So I took my chances and decided to post it on the social networks and see what I was able to catch. This time it happened to be a girl and it was perfect because I had no interest in them.
The post said
Assistant wanted, room and borad; willing to work per project.


INTO THE HOLE.

It was Wednesday and it had been drizzling. I headed down to the corner of Prince and Mercer Street around five in the afternoon  She was standing there with her arms thrown on her back with a very optimistic look.
Edith was like the storybook Alice; she was raven-haired with bangs, milky white skin, blue eyes, underdeveloped.
I lived above one of those psychic shops which was owned by some lady named Ava who was very solicited.
We continued to make small talk in the elevator; I could noticed she was frittering and somewhat avoiding me.
"The name´s Adrian Black by the way; sorry if I keep going online by odd usernames. What should I call you?"
"Oh, Edie is fine."
"Strange; like Edie Sedgwick."
"Yeah except I´m not that beautiful and rich like he was."
"I suppose you´re not a junkie either, sorry!"
She laughed, "No!"
"Oh, don´t be that disencouraged; everyone here looks like a rockstar. I´m simply white trash from Ohio who got lucky."
"Ok, now my turn! Why Adrian?"
"I don´t know. I think my mother got so hooked on "Rosemary´s Baby". Like I´m the Antichrist."
"Is that a true story?"
"No but I scared you, didn´t I?"
"Not one bit."
"Why this place is just around the corner for you, isn´t it?" I said.
"Oh, absolutely! But how did you manage to snatch this loft just like this?"
"It was no walk in the park, I´ll tell you that. You have to be some kind of artist. The former owner was Edward King. There was an urban legend that he used to lurk the campus at 3 AM because he went sleepless ."
"Well, that´s intriguing!" she cried. "I haven´t heard of that story."
"I wanted to be here so badly because I prefer to have a piece of history around me instead of something brand new. And because I´m a sucker for nostalgia."
"How come?"
"Because all people live or dead leave an invisible trace behind. Say like burned toast."
"Now you´re quoting Mr. Hallorann in "The Shining"! she cried.
"Are you some kind of film geek?"
"No but I have a very keen memory."
"And I'm an artist, it's not that unusual to have some scars in my life to inspire me. Actually I wondered if that was my fate; to have a tormented existence watching everyone around me being hurt or let me hurt them back.”
“God no,” she said swinging her hand in mid air, “you’re too young to be carrying too much grief, what are you, twenty something...”
“I’ll be thirty next january.”
“Oh, that’s bad, that’s way too bad,” she said cynically. “In a number of societies and subcultures being over twenty means that you’re practically washed up.”
“I’m not old!” I replied, “I’m just experienced. How about you?"
"Was that a trick question?" she snapped. "Well I´m twenty two. I came all the way down from Michigan to study psychology and currently I´m working on a thesis which describes using art as therapy; you know, to help people recover from trauma."
"You could never finish your work in a city like this! We´re all mad here. I´m mad, you´re mad."
"How can I be mad?" she asked.
"You must be; otherwise you shouldn´t have come here."
"Wait that sounds familiar; Alice In Wonderland, right?"
"Yeah, you got me. As a kid I used to quote it all the time; it applies to a lot of things in this crazy world."
"What other things?"
"Success in life. It takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that! I´m always ahead of my competitors."
"You have competitors?"
"All artists are like that. Secretly we want to devour each other. The rest of the time we´re poking each others´ egos. Only a small number are your actual friends."
"Right. I´m not so much into that because I´m a real down to earth person."
"You will get into it, trust me."
"Are you any good?"
"I´m a badass; that´s all you need to know."
After that a strange calmness invaded me; she had no idea of where she was headed to but I still wanted to protect her.

Away from all the high end shops and decadent flair of Soho was my private fifty five hundred square foot lair which was a literal flashback to the nineties. My comrades lived in a large set of vinyls and CD´s which were most of the time old Johnny Cash and Nine Inch Nails.
"There are two levels and a terrace up here. It´s like a freaking mansion with ghosts and all."
"Why are you saying that?" she laughed, "are you trying to scare me out of here?"
"No; I´m dead serious. There´s something bad here. No one believes it, of course but it´s an amusing story. Just like the one right here."
The entrance or foyer consisted of a large brick wall decorated with a copy of a painting I entitled "Home." The theme was a giant hole with a mixed media technique mostly acrylic and in the style of abstract expressionism.
"I have no idea what it means but the use of color is incredible. So you say this is a copy, where´s the original one?"
"It was sold to some art collector in London. I was lucky that she appreciated my earliest work."
"How is it that I know so little about what you do?"
"You really need to get out more. Come; I´ll show you the way to kitchen because I could really use a drink. What´s your poison?"
"Oh, no thanks, really."
"I insist but don´t worry I don´t bite. My teeth might too worn our anyway."
"You have a big imagination, Adrian."
"Yeah, among other things."
Edie was a swell tenant. She asked me why would I could choose for a girl who has nothing to do with the art world to live here. It was simply because she wouldn´t be such a huge distraction. Later on I would refer to her as my "non-artistic follower" with my colleagues in reference to the insane regulations of Soho living.
Her constant need to question and analyze everything served me well. Little by little I confessed her about my ill-fated relationship one afternoon. She was eager to know because there were moments where I failed to express any emotions. Mother used to think I was one of those autistic kids and had me examined.

"Is everything alright?" she said. "Or is it the rain that´s making you all melancholy?"
"Sorry, I didn´t notice you were here. What time is it?"
"Around six thirty. You don´t like to keep track of time, huh?"
"I used to but then I became very obsessive and I didn´t like who I was back then. I felt like a goddamn slave."
"I´m sorry, did I make you feel uncomfortable? I was going to make myself some tea; do you want to join me?"
"Now that´s something I can never refuse."

I wish I was actually doing portraits because Edie never looked so wonderful that afternoon; her little blue navy halter dress that went well with her sapphire like eyes. At least I could take a picture for the impression to last longer. It wasn´t a hint of attraction but she was mesmerizing.
"Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes."

"I´m a very rude host", I said sighing.
"How come?"
"I haven´t told you about my previous tenant."
"That´s okay; you don´t have to tell me everything."
"You do it all the time; from the moment you´re out in the street till you come back."
"Fine, go ahead."
"You may recall Daniel Hyde from my pictures online. He was practically all over the place."
"So you were involved; it´s not hard to figure out. Here, this is a special blend red tea. It helps to relax."
"Red; my favorite color besides black. You don´t want to hear the whole story, do you?"
"I´m not into gossip or prying into people´s lives, Adrian."
"Please do! It will help your career, I promise."
"Alright so what else happened between you two?"
"Well," I said as I proceeded to take a sip of tea, "This is rather good,by the way. He´s the main reason why I have been feeling all lethargic lately."
She said laughing, "So why didn´t you say so in the first place?"
"I feel so timid around you and I´m usually very chatty with girls. Anyway, Daniel came into to work here like all the rest but he´s still impossible to forget."
"My, this doesn´t sound like idle chatter anymore..."
We took our conversation elsewhere to the living room exactly where I had my huge black leather couch; that´s where I crashed most of the time when I was fully exhausted.
"He knew very well what he wanted. I didn´t care at all because I´m fully concentrated in my paintings. There is an unwritten rule here that whenever I´m requested for a new exhibition no one and I said no one can ever disturb me."
"Just like now?"
"Sort of. I must work under very specific conditions in the style of Edward K. There are hours where I am severly productive like at eleven or three in the morning. Sometimes I stay up all night and sleep in the daytime. Even my agent knows; it´s effective."
"I have noticed that."
"It takes a while to get used to. Danny didn´t fully understand this so at the beginning he begged me to go to sleep. As soon as he entered my studio which is cluttered all the time not messy and he approached me."
"And?"
"You would have said he was waiting for the right moment to strike me like a predator. I was in there doing my thing when suddenly he grabbed my waist but his hands were incredibly cold."
"And then?"
"I felt powerless. He pulled down my pants and took advantage of me. One thing led to another and next thing you know he was over me."
She paused for a moment raising an eyebrow, "And you didn´t put any resistance, did you?"
"I honestly did! Like I said I was so concentrated, possessed even. I was thinking that maybe it would all clear up the next day but it got worse."
"In which sense?"
"He wanted control; it was something I couldn´t give him no matter what. We had an agreement."
"Why didn´t you just throw him out?"
Then it was me who paused.
"Daniel was so great in bed; that´s what."
"Well, I think that pretty much wraps it up."
"It´s not always like that. I had a very hard time swallowing it."
"Really? How?"
"Actually I might be depressed right now but I can´t notice it because I have too much stuff on my head."
"Adrian, I think you´re playing the victim here when you knew damn well what he was up to. I see no reason to weep for that bastard."
"I´m still going with the theory that there´s something bad here."
"Yeah, probably your attitude and the fact that you´re promiscuous and don´t give me that look!"
"Me?"
"Yes you but I forgive you. Maybe you want to change and I respect that."


But I knew this piece of advice would not be enough; it was a wound that was still fresh. Unbelievable as it sounds Daniel was the Queen and I was nothing but a loyal subject. My failed attempt to seek help from the outside worsened these episodes of deep silence.
One fine day he found out I had a passion for drawing animals. He liked too but in a fetish sort of way. So he took me to this party over in Chelsea on Halloween where many queers and other strange creatures of the night gather.
Most of them were all dressed up in what he called "fursuits". I was half naked and wore a rabbit´s head; a black one to be exact. I felt like the goddamn Grim Reaper instead of something appealing. If you cannot face your fears you might as well become them.
It was fun and it obviously ended up in some serious ass fucking. The problem wasn´t the sex; I´m afraid. Since then the most peculiar brats sent me request on the social networks and that´s when they took up most of my time. I just liked to paint animals.
I had a white dwarf rabbit I kept in a cage somewhere arounf my studio. I called him Scraps which stood for the remains or scraps of my innocence. If he died then that would make me even more inhuman.
He was also a seer; the twitching of his ears served as a warning.
Yes, Edith´s words wouldn´t help me this time. I felt the emptiness, a desire for self destruction.

I fell into a trance. It must have been around eleven PM
The day the world went away---
A storm was coming and I went out to the terrace to get soaked and a catharsis began. How could I finish something that a beautiful stranger conceived with me? Though it was my idea he somehow left his mark in each and every one of those paintings. How much I wanted to get rid of them and start over...
But it was too late; that would be our sad story. Getting rid of my work would be to tear off a huge part of me; of my earliest memories, of my childhood.
"I have to finish this" I kept saying in a lower voice. "He is not my master. This is me; the real me."
Edith heard me and went outside as well. She had a light blue top and cardigan. I had shirt on and had no guilt for being under such terrible weather.
"You know this is not a very good time for stargazing. What is it?" She placed her hands around my shoulders hoping I´d come up with a decent answer.
"I´m under a lot of stress, that´s all."
"For starters you should get dry; you don´t wanna get sick, right?"
"Knowing myself I will get sick but I´m at that moment where I don´t care."
"Well I do. Come inside because you´re starting to creep me out."
"Really?"
"Yes. Don´t leave me out of your life. Even if I´m here for a while it doesn´t mean I don´t care what happens to you."
"Are you sure?"
"Either that or I think you´re desperate for affection."
"I don´t need that right now!" I cried, "I just want to be under control again."
"Just come away from the rain. If you sleep less you will be out of control, I swear."
"I´ll try to work on that, I promise."

For the remainder of the night I tossed and turned in bed. I felt like a needy child and so in my dreams I travelled back to my hometown.
Because my parents were highly concerned about my lack of human interaction they spent endless hours finding answers. The easiest explanation was that I had no brothers and sisters to talk to; only a handful of cousins were around but they lived an hour away from our house.
They resolved that I should try arts to at least have an idea of how I saw the world. The funny thing was that I didn´t draw people most of the time only whatever I wanted.
So I saw myself again in the backyard with a large box full of crayons and made circles on the construction paper over and over. It meant nothing but at least it reflected my rage against whatever bothered me back then.
This also took me back to the time I was in high school. I switched the loose pieces of paper to a diary. I had grown superstitious after my grandfather´s death and took great interest in the supernatural. That´s why I used to record strange events, visions and dreams.
Little did I know someone else was interested in that same voodoo crap and became my first girlfriend; Lisa Summers.
She was the minister´s youngest daughter of a family of six children. While I was raised Catholic her father was in the Methodist Church. Over the course of time I would learn that they were pretty much two different worlds. Actually Mr. Summer hated me for belonging to "a lazy form of life," and that I be thinking of doing something for the greater good.
Lisa, on the other hand strived to be a regular teenager. She had jet black hair