Feline folly

Many times I have clicked off the screen and back and every time the name Ophelia jumps from the art to my mind. And so we shall name the naked tortured soul Ophelia. The cat tells me that she once belonged to Cleopatra but her name is Nefertiti...her choice...so we shall honor it.

The little bird says just name her Sojourner, she is obviously just passing through, she points out, just company for those who need a friend, kind of like Nanny McPhee's only prediction. So too, she must abide:

"There is something you should understand about the way I work. When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go". Cheeky cat.

The story

Nefertiti stares at me with eyes that plead for understanding. Do you see, do you feel the sadness which permeates every inch of Ophelia's soul? Yes, I reply, I can see it, touch the depths of it, it leaks like a fetid wound, oozing like a slow moving river, invading the eyes and psyche of the beholder.

"Ophelia. Ophelia"! I call out to her, but she is beyond the place where reason and words still exists.

Yet, there is a haughtiness to the mien of the cat, a kind of pleasure taken in Ophelia's discomfiture, a deeper satisfaction derived from her unhappy state. The bird is obviously cats confidante. Still they lay by Ophelia, fearing leaving her to her own devices.

"Why do you smile inwardly, Nefertiti, for I see a certain look upon thine face, a sort of pleased puss smirk".

Nefertiti too, chooses not to answer, she peers yonder, as if seeing her secret reflected in someone or something else.

"Wy does Ophelia not cover herself, she lays atop the bed covers, so naked. Is she not cold".

"Tis her shame, tis her shame". Chants Sojourner.

"We cover her but she throws it off, says she must bare and bear her shame".

"But what is her shame"?

"We know not". Nefertiti answers, still smiling secretly.

"Ok, enough fun for today", Van Gogh laughs, finding much to paint, as the parties have provided him with many a theme for the painting which he has yet to start.

"Ophelia, you can change your pose now, relax, stretch your limbs and be my muse as I paint your lovely nakedness".

Ophelia giggles girlishly, rearranging and re-posing her slender body. She did so enjoy the narrative.

"Cat, you can stop smirking. Bird, we all know that you are not going anywhere anytime soon. Sojourner, I do like the name".

So cat did have a secret. She knew all along that Ophelia was a nude model and cat and bird were Van Goghs willing muses just as was the lovely Ophelia.

Yet, why did he paint a completely different picture than the one of his three willing muses.

One never knows with Van Gogh, do they?

But the Cat, the Bird and Ophelia...oh they knew. Ophelia smiles, he gets inspiration from their company.

+

Eileen Cooper, artist extraordinaire, sits relaxed in a cozy corner of the studio, she smiles as she watches the artist, his muses and his eccentricities reverberate with follies, banter and camaraderie.

She thoroughly enjoyed the madness of it all. The mystery, the back and forth of the friendly chatter, all intertwined within the depth of the genius of the man and his art. For although they all wittily concocted the argument around the scene on the bed, the painter saw within his minds eye, a distant and completely different world from which he painted his canvas.

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RGT's prompt