Friday, April 1, 2011

Papier-Mâché Bean-Sidhe

The cell phone rests on the wooden chair, paint splotches the only remains of earlier failed works. I glance at the altar every few minutes, waiting for Åsa to answer the voicemail, text messages, and e-mail apologies. Newspapers crinkle underfoot as I drape each gummed strip lovingly over the Bean-sidhe's frame, the seven-and-a-half foot body, forty-two inch bust, superhero cape flying to fill my living room. My salted tears spice the flour glue. The phone's silence lingers as I remember Åsa's silence after the argument, her back turned to me, throwing dresses like angry splotches of paint into her suitcase.

Time means nothing. Days become weeks while working on Bean-sidhe. Passion destroys time. The masked eyes follow me as I dance with my strips of paper, coating her, applying flesh. The comic book splayed open before me, hours fly until my electric blue duplicates her artist's rendering of her tights. I feel something from her, a silence, an accusation. I move around her and bump the chair, the cell phone skittering across the floor to stop beneath the refrigerator.

I am done. I don't recall eating or sleeping, but I must have. I sprawl on the floor exhausted.

I wake, thin light shining through the dirt-smeared windows. My heart lurches to discover she's fallen. Papier-mâché chunks crumpled on the floor exposing her wire-mesh bones. Tears fall down my cheeks, I blame loss of sleep.

Underneath, Åsa lies with a bruise on her neck, thread-bare dress blending into her pale skin. Papier-mâché handcuffs link her wrists. Dropping to my knees, I stroke fingers through her hair.

She wakes, not looking at me but over me, eyes flashing like a bird trying to distract a cat from her fallen chick. Bean-sidhe's hand rests on my shoulder while Åsa flees.

Scene seed from Stefan Jansson's "The Ghost Who Walks", a photograph of a papier-mâché Phantom, the comic book hero.


  1. A surreal mash-up of superhero traits and broken romance. Almost trippy to read, Aidan.

  2. @JohnW, I think there is something in the water out here. I wrote a drabble today that came out even trippier than this.

  3. I think this guy needs alot more than sleep. Loved the artistic and as John said trippiness of this piece.

  4. Kinda creepy too. I was hoping "please don't let Asa be trapped inside the paper mache" while I read it.

  5. I wish I did shit like this more often - or could. I love the unusualness that doesn't flare into nonsensicality.

  6. Anything to do with art and I'm a fan: freaky giant papier-mâché construction and poor Åsa. All for the good. Maybe he should get a different hobby. ^_^

    Keep drinking that water.