Claudia

How can I describe her without doing an injustice to her beauty. She was my everything, engrained into my heart and soul- forever bound together. Our love was like no other, you have all heard the stories of Romeo and Juliet, of Anthony and Cleopatra, but ours was a love like no other- the greatest love story ever told. All good love stories end in tragedy, we were doomed from the start. 1

The year was 1906, I was nineteen years old, young, fresh faced, and eager to experience what life had to offer. I moved to Paris as it was the centre of creativity and eccentricity. With dreams of becoming a successful painter, the kind who painted the rich, yet lived a meagre existence. Those are the types of people that are always remembered after they die. I wanted greatness and success, but what I found I did not expect- love.2

I knew I would seduce many women during my time in Paris, but it was not in my plans to fall in love. You see love spoils everything, all love does is get in the way. I had been in Paris a month, when I got obscenely drunk in what was known as the artists bar, full of painters, writers and musicians, all drowning their sorrows over their lack of success. By two in the morning I had an ache in my loins for a woman, that was when I set off for a brothel, not a high class brothel, but a dingy cheap brothel with heavily made women, and this was when my life changed forever.3

As I entered this brothel in what was the slums of Paris I was greeted by a plump and rather stern women, the madam of the house. I was brought to a room, a cheap tacky room, it was a deep rich red with far to much gilt. Women were draped over sofas in only their undergarments. That was when I saw her, this nymph of unexplainable beauty. I pointed and said “her, I want her”. The madam grabbed her and pulled her towards me, I had never believed in love at first sight until that moment.4

The girl I did not yet know her name led me to another room. Once inside we just looked at each other for the briefest of moments, taking each other in. She had a mane of golden locks, emerald green eyes, the most delicate of noses, with sprinkle of freckles across her nose and honey hued skin. I guessed she was only about fifteen or sixteen, and at that moment I decided I was going to take her from this whorehouse, look after her, and love her always.5

We did not just have sex that night, we made love. We made love with a hunger, grabbing each other, holding each other, wanting each other. I caressed her till her body quivered with pleasure. We collapsed on top of each other with exhaustion, our senses still tingling with the undeniable pleasure of it all. As we lay entwined I asked her what her name was, in a voice as soft as birds singing, she whispered “Claudia”.6

I gave her my coat which she put on gratefully to hide her modesty. We ran, we ran as fast as our legs would carry us into a veil of darkness, into night of Paris. We walked the lonely streets hand in hand, not saying a word. Occasionally I pulled her towards me, and we would in embrace for a moment- just a moment.7

By dawn we had reached my studio in the bohemian quarter of Paris- Monmartre. The two of us lay on the bed, exhaustion overcoming us both, and we slept entwined in each others arms. When we woke it was dark, we had slept the day away, and we made love again with a hunger for each others bodies. The fire that ignited us strong. She was mon cherie.8

It was night and I had the strongest of desires to draw her, she was to become my muse. I lay her on the sofa- naked. I sketched her for hours, not one word of agitation escaping her bee stung lips. Claudia was perfection, simple, undeniable perfection.9

The days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, and before we knew it a year had passed. I came to realise that Claudia was a very troubled girl. There were days when her happiness rang high, and her smile would brighten the darkest of days. There were also days when her sorrow was acute, and she would take to the bed for days at a time.10

Summer was here and Paris was at its most beautiful. Claudia and I spent are days in bohemian bars, I was to discover that Claudia was fond of the devils juice- alcohol. She would get so intoxicated, then she would become angry and abusive, and at times looked upon me with such venom that I felt my heart break.11

It was hot August day when Claudia and I were in a bar we frequented often. She was quite drunk by this stage, and was flirting shamelessly with a well dressed man. I began to get extremely agitated, slamming my drink on the table I stormed to the bathroom, Claudia’s giggling echoing in my ears as I left. When I returned some fifteen minutes later- she was gone.12

I spent the next week wandering Paris- searching, searching for my love. I was distraught, I went to all are old haunts, but the trail was cold. I began to fear that I had lost her forever. Over the next year I began to drink heavily, nothing mattered, my art, myself, I simply did not care, all I cared about was my love, my Claudia- mon cherie.13

Exactly two years later I was walking down the street when I saw her, gaunt, and coughing. I grabbed her, a look of shock on her face, then the tears began to fall. I brought her to café, where she begged for my forgiveness, begged for me to take her back, but I could not. Claudia had a hardened look, gone was the soft innocence. I would always love her, but she had tarnished that love with an unforgivable act. I gave her some money, and then I left. It was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done.14

The End15