Everything He Wanted

His apartment was barely bigger than a walk-in closet, and it was painted vomit green. The only atmosphere was offered by one dusty window accentuated by grandma curtains and a crusty fireplace he had never tried lighting. At least Jacob Looser did not have to wear a sweaty alpaca costume here, and he was finally able to initiate his date with his studio. It was a soothing jumble of art supplies, finished pieces that had yet to be accepted into a gallery, and his finished sketchbook collection. The pages of the current one Jacob flipped through contained impressive illustrations in many different mediums. He could lose himself in his sketchbooks and forget his demoralizing occupation, along with his visual arts degree that seemed to guffaw whenever he walked by. In fact, he would sometimes become so lost that he would find he filled up his sketchbook completely.

As he opened his sketchbook, he realized that he had done it again; his current sketchbook was full. He dropped his head on his desk, frustrated. Let’s see: today at work, he had been bombarded with calorie-packed slabs of meat, bread, and cheese, then attacked by little heathens who tried to climb him like a beanstalk during the birthday dance. Did Jacob really feel like going out to buy another sketchbook in these ungodly hours?

He had not been this excited to draw in awhile, so he knew he had made the right choice. Jacob had found a little black sketchbook made of genuine leather for a surprising bargain. The luxurious pages he slid his HB pencil over felt like papyrus the Egyptians used. The first page had a strange drawing of a man who looked as though he were trying to claw his way out of the paper. Jacob figured it was the company logo, and his own first drawing would be an ingenue, with doe eyes, full lips, voluminous hair, and a dress with a lace bodice. For embellishment, he decided to give the girl a crown made of begonias. Before he settled into his lumpy bed, he found himself almost wishing she were real.

***

Jacob did not wake up like a Disney princess to say the least. He had bags under his eyebags and untamed curls that made him look like he’d been on a roller coaster too many times. The good thing was that no one ever saw him like this. The mascot always fixed himself up before going out and he had to wear an absurd mask to work, anway. So, he was caught quite off guard when he noticed a young woman sitting at his desk. Before he could speak, she turned and flashed him a movie star smile. She was beautiful: wavy, light brown hair that reached her shoulders; soft, doe eyes… a white dress with a lace bodice… a crown of begonias?

Wait… What? Jacob moved his lips but no words were emitted. The girl simply giggled at him.

“Do you like what you see?” she teased. “It’d be kinda awkward if you didn’t, don’t you think? After all, you drew me.” The artist blinked twice then pinched himself. The pain told him he wasn’t dreaming.

“B-but,” he stuttered, “how?” The mysterious woman jerked her head toward his new sketchbook, which fortunately seemed untouched.

“This’ll explain it better than I can. Try drawing something else,” with the book and a pencil in hand, she sashayed over and handed him his tools. He pondered for a moment, still skeptical how real this all was, then began sketching away. Less than a minute later, Jacob ogled the Kit Kat bar he drew. It took a moment, but the drawing suddenly glowed white. A multitude of specs the same color then emerged from the spot, swirled like a snow globe, and slowly clustered together. They finally snapped away, revealing a king sized Kit Kat sitting atop the sketchbook. At this point, Jacob was not sure his jaw was still connected. He used his thumb and index finger to grab the tip of the wrapper, as if he were picking up a scorpion, and peeled it open. After sniffing the candy, he took a small nibble. It tasted… normal…

“So, do you have more questions, or do you wanna draw some more?” the girl tittered. Ideas of certain outfits he’d like to see her in flashed in his mind; he blushed and immediately shoved them to the back of his skull.

“First, I guess, is how this is even possible.” Jacob wondered aloud. She cocked her head in consideration and plopped herself on his bed.

“To be honest, I’m actually not sure. I only know I came from your book because your first drawing looks exactly like me.”

“I’m guessing that means you don’t know if there’s a catch or not?”

“Well, no, but I doubt there would be. It’s not like you’re making wishes or anything.” She then shrugged. If this girl were correct, that would mean all his dreams could come true. And that’s what made him the most skeptical. Jacob pursed his lips, then grabbed his pencil once more. He supposed it was worth a shot; he already animated a real person after all.

“So,” he began as he drew, “I was wondering. Would you like to, uh, accompany me to my art gallery?” He was relieved when her eyes gleamed.

“You have an art gallery?” The lively woman gasped. Jacob arched his brows and grinned. His nerves were illustrated through the slightly shaky lines of the twenty thousand dollar lottery ticket. Jacob’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as it popped into existence and fluttered into his palm.

“If this works,” his eyes were alight with hope he thought he’d lost, “I’ll soon have that and more.”

***

The former mascot blasted “Best Day of My Life” in his older Maserati as his official girlfriend admired her Pandora pink sapphire promise ring. These investments came after the business and legal costs of renting a small art gallery, and Jacob still had some cash left. He and the girl were actually on their way to the grand opening of the event. She wore a deep v neck gown that made her sepia skin shimmer, and he sported a crisp, Burberry tuxedo. He had originally planned on wearing his grandfather’s favorite suit, but he strangely could not find it. The same thing had happened with his toothbrush and some of his first sketchbooks that morning, but for all he knew they were probably buried somewhere in his refurbished home. All he could really focus on was the fact that he was about to finally become an established artist.

They parked in a reserved spot in front of a building that had charming, rustic windows on either side of the entrance. The street it was located on was typically lively and bustling, but today cars were parked for miles up and down the sidewalk. Jacob beamed from ear to ear as he and his companion hooked arms and strutted inside. There were numerous pieces on display and already a throng of viewers and potential buyers admiring them. At the very center of the exhibition hung his most enormous and time consuming piece: a bird’s eye view oil painting of an hourglass with a nude man as the sand. The top half burst in organized chaos of every color in the spectrum, while the bottom was cracked, gray, and lifeless, much like Jacob after a shift at Alfredo’s.

The painting suddenly began thrashing, glowed white, and erupted into a myriad of bright specks, just like the objects Jacob brought to life with the sketchbook. They fazed through the exit with a whoosh. Jacob just stared after them with his mouth agape, while the rest of the amazed crowd applauded him, presuming the whole thing to be a spectacle. He turned to his partner and was most disturbed by the cold smile plastered on her face.

The applause was halted by a woman’s piercing shriek. Everyone whipped around to find her writhing and glimmering like the painting. Jacob watched in horror as she dispersed into white particles, and then as many attendees followed the woman’s suit. Chaos ensued as the cluster rushed toward the exit, and Jacob, shaking himself from his daze, grabbed his girlfriend. But she did not budge.

“Hey! Come on, what’re you-” his blood ran cold when he looked at her. Her youthful beauty was replaced by deep wrinkles and lifeless skin, and her once warm brown eyes were now a sinister shade of red.

“Now, now Jacob,” the beldam crowed, “why are you so surprised? You got everything you wanted and now it’s time to pay for it.” As she spoke the entire building began to glow and shake. Jacob sprinted out of the venue and sped off in his car. He did not know exactly what she meant, but he knew what this all had started with.

***

The artist’s receding time was highlighted by his car’s sudden, dreadful gleam. He was fortunate enough to end up mere yards from his complex when the vehicle completely evaporated, but the momentum sent him rolling on the hard concrete until his shoulder smacked into some stairs. He stood and gazed at the top of the building, where a swirling storm of specks floated. He rushed inside, pain searing through his bleeding and bruised limbs.

The sketchbook had created a tornado inside his studio. Each and every one of his belongings, orbited it violently and began dissolving. He lunged for the book and it struggled in his grasp. Jacob recognized every illustration in the flipping pages, from his grandfather’s tuxedo to some of the attendants of his gallery. He suddenly felt like a hot poker was driven into his foot and was terrified to see that it had turned a horrid white. Jacob frantically began to rip the pages out, but they merely reattached themselves. The beldam surprised him with a cruel cackle. As he whirled around to face her, the white spread up to his knees; he did not have long before the convulsions started. She opened her arms to him, welcoming him to an eternity with her.

Jacob searched desperately around the room for a way to destroy the infernal sketchbook, and his heart jumped when he glimpsed the fireplace. He rushed past the hag, who simply smirked at him. It turned into a hideous sneer once she saw him turn the gas key to start the fire. He made for the kitchen where he found his lighter floating, but tripped over his gleaming, twitching feet. This inadvertently caused him to dodge her tackle. His arm screamed as he flung the lighter into the hearthstone. Though it miraculously burst into flame, he could not yet afford relief; his energy was still being sapped and the beldam, now between him and the fire, was prepared for another attack.

With the sketchbook squirming angrier than ever his hands, Jacob gravely charged straight at her. He ducked just in time to avoid a slash in the chest and wailed as he shoved the book into the flames with his bare hands. It twitched furiously and she let out an awful screech as her limbs did the same. The tornado froze, then turned chalky, as did the rest of his home, pushing Jacob to forlorn tears. But this time, it wiped itself away to reveal his previous space. More bleached specs erupted from the burning book, scattering and dissolving through his walls in every direction. The woman cried out once more and exploded into a puff of black smoke. The ashes left from the book dissolved into thin air.

His burns and bruises remained, but there was not a trace of white or scratches from the beldam left on Jacob’s body. He finally let himself collapse on the floor, breathing heavily and wondering if he could get his old job back.