When he was out of the view of town his smile slowly vanished. Just as he thought, he felt nothing. No rush from the art, just the empty feeling remained. With his masterpiece being his only hope in getting back his inspiration.

There are dare devils in this world who jump from planes in parachutes, or jump from cliffs and land into the unchartered waters. They all do this for the fun and the thrill, and Mr. Doug was the same. He had combined his love for photography and his love for the thrill into a strategy game where he risked his life for his art. But for the past 10 pieces, he lost all inspiration, which is an artist's worst nightmare. 

But during this business trip, he met someone who sent shivers down his spine. No man has ever done this before. He knew, the moment when he shook hands with him, that his client was going to be the new piece he needed to get back his inspiration. 

When Mr.Doug reached the home of his masterpiece, he felt a certain dreadful feeling in the air. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold night breeze, or if it was the fact that there was no light on in the home. It was as if he was walking up to an abandoned home. His hand reached for the door, but he soon realized that the door wasn’t shut so it flew right open. It was as if the door was left open just for him.

The home was quiet and nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Mr.Doug knew something was off. He immediately looked around downstairs. The only thing he noticed out of the ordinary was in the kitchen. The whole kitchen was a disaster with piled up dishes and chairs on their sides. There also appeared to be a box of wine leaking out all over the floor. 

“Who even drinks boxed wine? What a sad excuse for a human being? ,” Mr. Doug muttered to himself as he walked over and got himself a glass. 

But Mr. Doug took a second look at the floor, and he smiled. Someone appeared to have spilled the wine over the floor to cover up the fact that blood was spilled, insead. All he could smell was the strong scent of grape wine. He couldn’t smell a single drop of blood. 

“Truly creative.” Mr. Doug muttered. 

You might be wondering how Mr.Doug was able to figure out that blood was spilled, if the wine truly covered up the blood. The fact is, the artist was just as clumsy as they were smart. 

The artist had left their paint brush next to the wine glasses. Mr. Doug so kindly picked it up for him, and placed it in his pocket. 

Mr. Doug could only assume that this was his Masterpiece’s doing. He felt kind of disappointed, but he was still here nevertheless, and Mr. Doug wasn’t the kind of man to leave his work half done. So with haste, Mr.Doug made his way up the stairs. He walked ever so lightly through the hall to the Master bedroom.

You may be wondering, how did Mr.Doug know where the master bedroom was? Well, to put it simple, practice makes perfect.  And with his line of work, there were no second chances, it had to be perfect. So this wasn’t his first time walking through the home. No definitely not the first time, but this was definitely his last. 

When he reached the room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Someone had beaten him to it. His masterpiece that he had been planning for weeks had already been done by someone’s else’s hand. 

He had an intense rage fall over him, but his inner artist couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t help but admire the work they had created. It was far better put together, than he could have ever come up with. It reminded him a little of his first piece. Messy, but well made. He felt envious. It was what he was hoping to get back, but he knew that was impossible now. That was the risk with this type of art. 

As he left the room, he couldn’t help but take a picture. Even though it wasn’t his, it was something so well made he couldn’t help, but to admire it a little while longer. 

And as quick as his camera flashed, he left. 

“Bump”

But not before, his eyes became fixated on the closet door. And to his surprise, a little boy sat inside smiling, covered from the tip of his tongue to the tip of his toe with red paint. 

A child had beaten him to it.