SPF: The cult of the artist

The following is a 200-word story inspired by this week’s Sunday photo fiction. Please give their site a visit and have a look at the other entries made. They are certainly worth it 🙂

Photo from Morguefile

A strange thing happened every week is a non-descript café in town. It used to happen every Wednesday at about 6 PM. A group of people, the numbers growing seemingly every week, used to gather around the small tables and take out their sketchbooks. It was then that the silence descended and everyone began to draw.

It used to happen for about one hour before, just as silently, the members of this group put down their drawing equipment and left the café.

People never imagined that it was a cult of some description as no money changed hands, at least not between their members, only with the owners of the café who provided drinks or snacks as required. There were no words either, no dictation of belief, and no evidence of any brainwashing. It all appeared to be a group of like-minded individuals expressing themselves through their art. Nobody ever felt threatened by them, so they were left alone to just sit and draw.

Everyone was going to change their mind about the peaceful group on the day they just stopped going. Nobody really investigated why but everybody found out when evidence of mass suicide of artists appeared close by.


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