“Crazy ain’t it? It’s a Jesse Mallakoy original. Cost us a million bucks” said the barman as he poured his customer a whisky.
Slowly sipping the drink the old man stroked his mottled beard and smiled.
“He’s dead. Killed himself after finishing this. Locked his soul into it or so the story goes. That’s him in the middle” continued the barman as he turned to point at the picture.
The man in the picture was gone. The barman quickly spun round. An empty stool. The glass of whisky he’d poured seemingly untouched.
Jesse Mallakoy felt whole again. He could now rest at peace.
This is my entry in this week’s 100 word writing challenge over at Friday Fictioneers.