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The Overtly Dramatic Story of the Sinful Trickster Rome, Italy.

1747 His dark brown eyes seemed to carry the weight of his perfectly arched eyebrows. He became a saint of beauty with a golden brown crown of short, relaxed curls. The curves of his mouth, the scarlet red lips were small but well formed, gave a way the true image of a young and saintly Satan. He sat naked on a brown velvet pillow; his whole figure was dimly lit by soft yellow candlelight flickering ab ove his head. The artist loved the boys figure, and adored him fervently with da ngerous passion. The artists eyes followed the light on the boys muscles, and cop ied its effects on a large canvas before him. He stroked the brush almost fanat ically, and kept adding layers of wet oil paint on to the canvas. With every st roke he kept perfecting the mortal beauty of his version of Saint Lucifer. To t he religious masses it would become St John the Baptist, and the true nature of its name was never to be revealed; only the boy knew of the tricks he played to the people and the Church. The room was filled with classical marble statues, an d marvelous paintings. Every canvass had the same beautiful face but his two ne w paintings were charged with eroticism. On the first canvas, piercing arrows p enetrated St. Sebastians naked body, and on the second, a half-naked Bacchus slep t soundlessly on a scarlet divan while two boy attendants looked over at their m asters sleep. The boy rose languorously, and got dressed. He looked at the artist and saw tha t he had not ceased to paint. The painter stared at the boy for a moment and sm iled. What the boy asked. What is it now? Matthew, where are you going? the painter asked calmly. You cant keep me here for ever said the boy, taking a cup full of wine to his lips; he took it in all at once. I hope you enjoyed my last day here with you, and Im s orry that I cant give you the night as well. Im not for free, and I have to go now . Look boy, I have made you immortal! the painter cried out, turning the canvas for the boy to see. For a moment the boy gasped to see himself as a boyish Satan. He looked past the painting into the artists eyes, and for a moment realized he h ated him. Yes, and God is very merciful of you said the boy, and so am I, that is why I go. His countenance was cruel, and filled with disgust. It had never occurred to him that these paintings could get him into trouble. If these were to be hanged an ywhere on the altar, many would recognize his naked body. The painters marvelous art would then be condemned as sacrilege. But he didnt really care, so he left without ever looking back, and the painter didnt stop him. It was on the year of 1746 when a terrible disease swept the whole city, and many died of tuberculosi s. Fearing for the boys life, the artist ventured out into the darkest streets a nd set out to find him. After looking for the boy in all the corners and brothels, he finally found his body resting on a puddle of mud. He took the body to the crypts underneath a ba silica, and put him to rest. He wrapped the body with scarlet silk, and wept. Every night, after the boys death, for seven years he never failed to visit his lovers tomb, and after each visit, he never forgot to kiss its exposed teeth. One night after the seven year period, he took the bones to his room, and tied t hem all together with black ribbons and red thread. After laying the whole skel eton on a bed of white lilies, he commenced the long process of creating a statu e. He covered the bones in clay, and formed perfect muscles. He created the ve ins, the skin and the face. After firing the limbs, he built a wooden crucifix, and covered it in beautiful gold. He placed long and wavy hair on to the beaut iful bald head, and thereafter came the thorny crown. With his finest brush, he painted thin red lines emanating from the hands, the head, the chest, the knees and the feet. The statue was sent out to the Vatican as a gift.