ED

The room was a chaotic mess of filth and carnage. The furniture was aged and mouldy, a sweetened metallic scent hung in the air. A man sat at an old table, paint peeling from its timber surface. The lamp he worked under flickered, once, twice. His brow furrowed with irritation and he reached out to tap the bulb. The flickering stopped immediately and he stared at it a moment longer, as if daring it to blink again before resuming his work. A Louis XV antique timber chair sat on the bench beside him. It was one of those chairs with carved legs and scalloped aprons, giving the piece a French provincial flare. He had just finished re-varnishing the piece and had removed the cushion to re-upholster it. The original silk cover lay tossed carelessly to one side. 

He grunted under his breath as he took the waxed thread in his teeth, trying to force his needle through the new cover he was constructing. Once the thread was forced through the thick hide, he gripped the needle in this teeth and reached for another swatch. With dexterous fingers he placed the new piece of hide over the first, then slipped the needle from his mouth once more. It took even more force to push the needle through this time, but with a resounding ‘pop’ it punctured the tough hide and his smile was wide and pleased. 

He continued on like this for a long time, adding segments, stitching, admiring. Once finished he reached for the naked foam cushion and lay the new cover over it and the timber seat base of the elegant chair. Taking a staple gun in his hand he forced the hide tight along one edge then raised the gun and began to staple down the new cover. The resounding click of the gun was loud in the quiet room as he stapled one full length, then another, then another. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, he methodically worked his way around the chair, pulling the hide taut as he went. 

Finally, the chair was finished, fully assembled and new. It was a masterpiece and he grinned with morbid delight. 


It was a fucking work of art...