[Zhongyingmei] The clown is actually me

brush.

Jack stood in the clear sunlight, staring at the quill pen in his hand.Russian blue squirrel hair is stained with viscous paint, which is ground with natural minerals. Paintings using this paint,? Hundreds of years have passed,? The color is still gorgeous.

He turned his head and saw a solid wood grand piano custom-made in Germany, and a spruce violin placed on the cabinet, handmade by Italian masters, with tailpieces and back and side panels all made of tiger skin maple.

He carried the drawing board, walked through the corridor, and came to the door of his mother's room.The mother sat on the bed, like a frozen statue.She is no longer a girl, but still as beautiful as Jack remembered, with a slender and wonderful figure, wine-red hair like almost transparent gauze, covering her snow-white shoulders and back vaguely, she is wearing a soft suit In the white silk nightgown, the white face was hazy under the light of the hall, as if shrouded in a milky white halo.

"Mom." He heard himself calling softly, and at the same time, he saw himself in the mirror not far away: a boy who looked only eleven or twelve years old.

"Are you studying well? How are you doing?" Mother stroked his hair, "Is your father still not here?"

Jack shook his head: "He and his wife haven't divorced yet, it's not the right time recently."

"Did you show him your painting? He will definitely come after seeing it!"

No,? Jack thought,? He didn't even answer the phone.But he didn't say that, but replied: "Yes,? I showed my work to my father, and he said that I inherited his talent. Even at my age, he couldn't draw like me. Just as good."

Mother hugged him and kissed his forehead, "Keep drawing, Jack, keep drawing. He'll admit you're his son, someday."

Jack hugged his mother tightly, the woman's body was slender and soft, as white as a lamb: "It's okay, Mom, I'm fine by myself, it's okay if I don't see my father, I can read him in art magazines, you Don't worry about me. I will avoid others to go to Dr. Nim to get the medicine, and I have hidden the medicine bottle well. In the eyes of outsiders, I will always be your 'healthy' only child."

"I know you are uncomfortable, it's okay, soon, soon you will get rid of the status of 'illegitimate child'..." The mother hugged him tightly and murmured, "Come on, let me see your painting .”

Regardless of his obstruction, the mother lifted the white cloth covering the painting. Under the white cloth was an ordinary still life painting with messy and clumsy brushstrokes, obviously written by a beginner. She froze after just one glance, and then stretched out The trembling hands tore up the painting and turned it into crumbs, which hit Jack on the head and face like falling snow: "No... this can't be done! Your painting is so bad that your father won't come to see me at all. , What should I do about my illness? What about your illness?! You lied just now, didn’t you, you didn’t give the painting to your father at all, he wouldn’t even take a look at this kind of work!”

Pushed by her, Jack fell to the ground with his head bowed.Suddenly, the mother caught a glimpse of his bruised arm, hurriedly lifted his shirt, and saw that his body was covered with cuts and bruises: "What's wrong with you? How did you get so many injuries? Who hit you?"

"You hit me, Mom." Jack turned his head and took his hand out of his hand, "You have been crazy for three years, and you hit me when you were sick, but as soon as you wake up, you don't remember anything .”

"Impossible, how could it be possible for me, I simply..." The mother trembled as if she was about to faint, her hands and feet continued to convulse, and finally hugged him again, as if she wanted to turn him back into a baby and hide him in her stomach again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I really..."

Jack didn't answer, the letter opener slid out of his cuff, the sharp point pointed inwards, and barely pressed against his mother's neck.As long as he stabbed hard, this small knife similar to a utility knife would become a murder weapon. Its sharp edge would pierce the mother's throat, turning the beautiful lamb-like body into a pool of dead flesh.Where his mother didn't see, his golden eyes were like brimstone burning in hell, reflecting the devil's icy expression.Finally he smiled, put his hand on his mother's back, and said softly: "Tomorrow is Mother's Day, Mom, what kind of flowers do you like?"

empty.

Jack left his mother's arms, and the memory was broken here.The next scene is that he came to the studio with the drawing board on his back, sat in front of the easel, held the paint tray in one hand, and held the paintbrush in the other. He stared at the canvas, daubed a stroke on the canvas mechanically, and then thought: It’s empty.

Below the canvas is empty, there is nothing inside.

"Your painting is too rigid and too precise. This is not good, and it will appear very 'empty'." The art teacher said, his voice hoarse and distorted, "Art is not for painting likeness, but for projecting emotions. We must Compassion requires humane care."

"Humanistic care?"

The teacher thought about how to explain this word to a child: "It's just love. We love others, we can't bear to see others suffer, when they suffer, we feel pain, and we want them to be happy."

"Make them happy?" Jack murmured.

The memory became blurred again. Jack left the studio with a hazy consciousness, as if he was in a thick fog, and his surroundings were upside down, left, and right.The fog was getting thicker and thicker, covering everyone, he couldn't see the road ahead, and he couldn't see the people around him clearly. Many people walked past him, all of them were adults. After a few vague shadows, no one spoke to him, and he was not interested in opening his mouth, but when they passed by, Jack heard their voices, like a breeze blowing past his ears, and immediately disappeared after passing by.

"It's too miserable, so pitiful...that child, how can you sell belladonna flowers to a child..."

"Without the control of my parents, I accidentally ingested a small amount of belladonna, which is highly hallucinogenic and causes neurotoxicity... If the dose is too large, it may cause permanent disability..."

"Dr. Nim has provided effective evidence that this child suffers from schizophrenia... what his mother inherited from him...may not be the cause of belladonna alone, neurotoxins amplify this effect..."

"Being abused all year round, being too depressed, is also an incentive..."

"Look at that child's eyes! Her mother was cut open by him, but he still said creepy and crazy words, and continued to draw some scary pictures...Look at what he drew, flowers, eyes , Rotten woman, is this what a child of his age should express..."

Jack woke up suddenly. This was the last memory. He was in an empty room with no one around him.The sound he heard just now seemed to be just a hallucination.He was wearing a white shirt with paint stains on the skirt and front, and the cuffs were rolled up to the elbows, revealing slender, handsome, pale arms.As the dim yellow sun fell, he opened the curtains, bringing in the evening breeze with the rich and fragrant scent of apple blossoms.

He stood for a while, then looked back, his mother was lying on the ground, with a sweet body fragrance, she was slender, slender, bright and moving, with almost transparent golden curly hair, so pure like a stream of moonlight, and It seemed to burn in an instant.

Jack ate a flower at will, and then threw a large bouquet of belladonna flowers on his mother's body. The tiny flowers fell in all directions, as if a fine snow had drifted away, and the petals were stained with crystal night dew, like fine beads. The bright points are dotted among the spotless delicate flowers.The yellow sunlight was cut into pieces by wires and railings, gusts of wind blew up the snow-white veil, and the twilight passed through the complicated lace, casting swaying and chopped shadows.

At this moment, he suddenly heard laughter, and there was a third person in the room.Jack followed the reputation, and the voice came from a huge portrait that was as tall as a person. He tore off the velvet blanket covering the portrait, and what appeared in front of him was a portrait of a man.

The man in the painting is walking on a crimson sofa, looking straight ahead, with a satisfied smile and eyes like a lion.He has curly black-green hair that has grown too long and falls to his neck. He is wearing a strange purple tuxedo with a silver Medusa relief at his Adam's apple. At his elbows are candlesticks and vases with with a large bouquet of apple blossoms in bloom.There was darkness behind the man, and a dark velvet curtain fell like an iron curtain.

"Bad boy." The man in the painting looked at him with evil green eyes, and his pupils were full of cold sneer, "Bad boy!"

Jack woke up.

Surrounded by a sea of ​​miscanthus, it is autumn and autumn, the soft short hairs on the top turn into shimmering gold, and when the wind blows, there are brilliant waves.In the center of the wheat field, undecorated wooden chairs are lined up side by side. Jack sits on one of the chairs with his hands flat on his knees. The two chairs are close together, so close that he can smell the clown. The smell of blood, smoke, gasoline chemicals and sea salt perfume.

"What did you dream about?" The clown was still reading a brick-thick book in the depths of the sea of ​​consciousness. He heard his movements and asked without raising his head.

"I dreamed... my mother died and I was standing next to her body..." Jack gasped, "I, I... I killed her... I bought a bouquet of belladonna Hua, killed her first, and then disguised as belladonna poisoned, I had a bad dream... yes, it was a nightmare."

The clown smiled: "Don't lie to yourself, Jack, in fact, you already had a hunch that this is not your dream, but your memory."

"No!" Jack denied his words loudly. "I remember how my mother died. She drowned!"

The clown chuckled, and Jack had never found his laughter so hateful: "Jack, for people like us, inversion, splicing, and even falsification of memory are not difficult, we just want to remember what we want to remember Is it the same with your mother? She once locked you in the bathroom for three days, and beat you with a hammer until several fingers on your right hand were broken, so you could only hold a pen with your left hand. Of course she doesn’t remember this, she just Remember she loves you. You inherited her mental issues flawlessly, you forget that you are nothing more than an illegitimate child, that you were not born left-handed, and more importantly, that you killed your mother. "

Jack felt his heart beating wildly, and he retorted palely: "No, I never killed anyone, it was you who forged my memory! It was you who wanted to confuse me!"

"Even if I fake it, I won't fake it so badly. This is a problem with the subconscious mind. It is difficult for people to deceive themselves perfectly. Your brain knows it is not true, so it keeps giving you hints. I hope you can Waking up from a phantom. Like, Jack, do you remember what color your mother's hair was? Red, or blond?"

Jack froze.Big drops of cold sweat dripped down, yes... the clown was right.His brain tricked him, remembering that his mother did have two hair colors, burgundy and light blonde, but he never realized the contradiction, and couldn't tell who was real and who was fake.As the Joker said, his memory is unreliable.Jack took a few breaths, and said with some difficulty: "Maybe I'm too young... I don't remember very clearly."

The clown shook his head, as if looking at an overly stubborn student: "Then let me ask you another question, Jack, do you still remember your wife's face?"

Jack was silent.

"This is so funny. Do you only remember the back of her neck? You are as sensitive as you, and I didn't find out that you were fooled until now, and you don't remember her appearance at all?" The clown laughed maliciously. Laughing, after laughing for a while, he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with his fingers, and asked the question that Jack was most concerned about, but also the most afraid to ask: "Jack, do you really have a wife?"