A million butterflies filled Masha's stomach while the distinguished man in the tuxedo took the stage. Today, she would crush Colette under her foot and take all the glory. Colette had taken first in everything since grade school. The first to find romance, to break out into the art world. She managed to get a full review from the Washington Post and the New York Times. The Creative Hand Award would belong to Masha.
The man pressed both hands against the podium and leaned close to the microphone. His lips almost caressed the mesh. "The Creative Hand Award honors someone who has proven themselves a master sculptor. This year's winner has transcended mastery and has shown the truths of humanity."
Masha checked out of the conversation. She practiced her gracious look and humble words to Colette or the esteemed competition. She'd give a rousing speech on how their rivalry brought out the best in them. Giddiness ruled Masha as the man at the podium held up the envelope.
"This year's winner is..."
With her palms clenched tight in hope, Masha tensed up, ready to leave her chair at a moment's notice.
"Colette Duchamp, with an honorable mention to Masha Dragunov."
A standing ovation shattered Masha's hope like glass. Her facial expression and hands made her a living version of The Scream without the screaming. Her agent said Colette stuck to painting. It was the reason she changed mediums.
Colette rose and gave her a gracious look and said, "You should've won in my opinion."
At this point, Masha clung to her composure with a forced smile and clenched teeth. Each word of congratulations tasted like bile on the end of her tongue. "Your victory was unexpected." Masha envisioned Colette being beaten to death by her award.
The worst was yet to come. Masha had to endure the rousing speech about how their competition raised the bar for them both. "First, I'd like to thank my childhood friend..."
Friends? When were they ever friends? Masha remembered cruel pranks and whispers. The champagne glass in her hand shattered, and shards bit into Masha's hand. Two people beside her balked at the sight of blood and moved two seats away. The speech ended with.
"In the end, our rivalry brought out the best in us."
It was too much for Masha. Her award, gracious words, and rousing speech were all stolen by Colette. She'd never be free as long as the bitch was alive. It was then the thought hit Masha. Colette Duchamps had to die.
***
Planning the death of Colette Duchamps turned into a labor of love for Masha. A quick death wouldn't cover a lifetime of stolen glory and false praise. Masha wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect. She spoke with hitmen, mobsters, and experts in torture, but none had a death worthy of her adversary.
Her tour of vengeance brought Masha to the frozen wastes of Greenland. She stepped into a shop named the Treasured Igloo. The bell dinged as it slapped against the frosty glass. On the shelves were various items carved from walrus tusks and whale bones. Some were creatures with sharp fangs and lethal claws.
Masha snatched one off the shelf and brought it to the counter. A brown-skinned man in Mukluks smiled as he accepted the carving from her hands and said.
"I see you've chosen a Tupilaq carving." The Inuit man said.
"What is it?" Masha asked.
"A spirit constructed for vengeance, although it is a risky endeavor."
"Why?"
"The tupilaq can't see its maker's face, or it'll turn on them. The tupilaq can't attack someone more powerful than the maker, or it'll turn on them. If successful, there is nothing more deadly." The Inuit man said.
It was perfect, a macabre art project intended to destroy Colette. Masha couldn't imagine anything more perfect. "Do you know anyone who can teach me how to make one?"
"Are you sure about that? Revenge is a path fraught with peril. The spiritual world doesn't care about your feelings or petty mistakes. The vengeance you seek will come at a price if you're not careful."
Masha didn't care. Her thoughts were obsessed with Colette's demise. Spirits be damned, the bitch had to die. She chose her words carefully.
"I promise to show the spirit world proper respect."
***
The process of building the tupilaq was simple. It started with a clear and concise drawing of the creature Masha wanted to create. The dark web provided her with rare and powerful animal parts, as she wanted a monster born of pure nightmare fuel. Colette had to die frozen in fear. Masha wouldn't accept anything less.
When her ill-gotten pieces arrived, Masha began the arduous work. Nine long nights of throat singing left her vocal chords raw. She had everything but a sample of Colette herself. It was fortunate the bitch was holding an exhibit for her latest work two nights from now. Masha put on her flashiest dress and sought out her missing link.
Colette knew how to cater to a crowd. The food delighted the palette, the drinks went down easy, and art critics came out in droves to review her latest collection. Debutantes and people with influence schmoozed over their love of art. Masha stayed lost in the sea of people and waited for her adversary to put down her purse. A single strand of hair was held prisoner by the zipper teeth. Masha snatched it up and headed back home.
With her gruesome monster completed, Masha tossed it into the ocean. She watched the salty waves claim their latest prize. All she had to do was wait. Masha was the first to summon a vengeful spirit against her enemies.
***
Over the next few days, Masha kept her eyes glued to obituaries for evidence of Colette's death. Until a headline gave her mental frostbite, freezing her blood.
"Police Baffled By Death of Famous Artist Daughter"
Masha read on. "Famous artist Colette Duchamp, 42, woke up to her daughter's screams. Lacey Duchamp, 13, was disemboweled and reassembled like some macabre art project. Police are baffled as forensics tests revealed brown widow venom in Lacey's blood. While her wounds suggest she was mauled by a polar bear, and bitten by a tiger."
After years of being second, Masha was the first to take an innocent life. She wanted revenge, but not like this. Should she tell someone? Who would believe her? Masha's head started to spin, and vomit crawled up her throat. She dropped to the floor in the fetal position. For hours, she couldn't move. The day turned to night, and she fell asleep, paralyzed by her misdeed.
Over the next few nights, Masha heard disembodied growls during the witching hour. Hot breath seared her neck every time she lay down to rest. She'd close her eyes, and the tupilaq's lethal claws would hold up Lacey's severed head. The teen's eyes would shoot open, and her bloody mouth would slur the word.
"Murderer"
Masha's pounded hard enough to break her rib cage. She clutched her chest and chalked the dream up to a guilty conscience. That was until she stepped out of the house. People who saw her stared at her as if they knew her wicked deed. Their eyes shamed with little effort. Lacey's spirit would appear soon after swinging her angry face around like a gruesome mace. Everywhere Masha went, Lacey's spirit waited. The guilt became an iron weight around her neck, and soon, she couldn't leave the house.
In her dreams, the twisted creation wrapped around her body and licked her with the ichorous tongue. Silvery trails of saliva covered her body within minutes. Masha's skin threatened to crawl away when the tupilaq uttered a single word.
"Guilty."
Masha never failed to wake up soaked in sweat, starved for air, while her pulse rattled her skull. As time went on, the nightly fits lasted longer and longer. After it toyed with her, the spiritual beast ran its long claws along her exposed flesh. Pinpricks of revulsion followed the serrated nails. Gradually, the tupilaq dug deeper until crimson drops fell to the sheets below. Her wounds wouldn't heal and festered, much to the dismay of her doctor.
"Guilty. Confess." The tupilaq whispered with a humid breath against her ear.
Thanks to her wounds, the stench of decayed meat followed Masha around no matter how much she washed. Masha would hear the whispers about the vile scent following her around. Mirrors she looked in showed the horrid tiger skull with the muscle and sinew exposed. Insects skittered through the empty socket. Hot, wet words touched her ear.
"Too Late."
Pure desperation led to a phone call, "Please help the tupilaq went wrong. I accidentally killed my rival's daughter. Now the beast haunts me."
"You didn't take my advice did you?"
"No."
"You have to confess your misdeed."
"But the creature said it was too late."
"Then what happens is on your head, and yours alone." The Inuit man hung up.
A month later, a sleep-deprived Masha saw a headline in the local paper.
"Bereaved Artist Dedicates Art Show To Dead Daughter"
Nothing broke Masha's spirit quite like that headline. All that work and suffering wasted. She could endure the endless horror because Colette suffered alongside her. Colette's little exhibit had stolen that pleasure. Her latest sculptures got rave reviews and catapulted her into new heights of fame. She would have vengeance.
"If you want something done right," Masha shouted. She pulled the old revolver from under the bed and hopped in her beat-up Gremlin. The ghost of Lacey cackled beside her while the clunker tore down the road.
The tupilaq rode shotgun and kept repeating the words
"Death comes."
"SHUT UP!" Masha shouted. She didn't care what it cost. Colette would pay for her perceived transgressions. Ten minutes later, the Gremlin smashed into a fire hydrant. Water sprayed in all directions. The force almost knocked Masha off her feet.
Blam! A bullet shattered the glass door to the gallery. Masha entered to screams of terror and words of despair. A drowned rat looked better than she did at that time. Water dripped off her soaked clothes. "You've stolen what's mine for the last time. I deserve the accolades. I deserve the awards. I deserve the news articles. You've been stealing my glory since we were kids, and now you'll lose everything like I have."
The revolver shook in Masha's hand while she raised it. Her finger squeezed the trigger. A bright flash came from the muzzle, but the bullet never made it to the intended target. The bullet hung in the air for everyone to see.
Masha was the only one who could see the clawed hands that clutched the bullet. The horrid mouth spoke for the last time.
"Death is too good for you."
From there, Masha became the first in many other things. The first to have a public arrest and sentenced to death in a court of law. The first to die by lethal injection. The tupilaq waited for her in the veil of death, where she became the first to feel the flames of hell.
The End
Chilling!