The Evil Portrait by Richard Davies

Tale of Horror from Victorian London

The evil portrait by Richard Davies.

London. Winter. 1850.

Francisco Colonessi drank as if that night was his last. He celebrated the completion of his latest painting, a portrait of Lord ? He couldn't remember the name. Old moneybags the art dealer, had secured that and other commissions on his behalf. Francisco could care less, but at least  they afforded him a supply of liquor and whores; Two were at that moment asleep on a make-shift cot in a corner of his gloomy studio. As long as he made enough to purchase artist's supplies and continue his craft, he was content.
He lived in a squalid part of east London's dockland area, on the banks of the River Thames. It was a far cry from the patrons who purchased his work. His room, a warehouse, had mildew infested walls and ceilings, with a cracked skylight that continually leaked filthy rain water onto the warped floor, below.
Dense fog surrounded the grimy dwellings and their forgotten inhabitants; thieves, pimps and beggars.
It was early morning, when he finally could take no more alcohol, and passed out next to the snoring women...

...'Please move along the viewing room so that everyone can see.
Ladies and Gentlemen, you are looking at what is considered to be one of the greatest works of art ever painted. Francisco Colonessi's masterpiece. His self-portrait.'
A large gathering of people of all ages stood before him. They were dressed in strange clothing, and some of the women showed naked arms and legs. All eyes were intently focused on him.
'Move in a little closer, Please...'