Jean’s body shivered, even in the heat of his workshop. Sweat beaded on his face and he felt a chill down his spine. His breathing was painfully arrhythmic. He blinked an errant tear away and stood up from his chair, faster than he should have. Jean felt terrified but, he didn’t have the slightest idea why.
Thirty minutes before his sudden panic Jean had unlocked the door to his shop, The Immodest Necklace, before locking it behind him again. He had passed the display cases of the jewelry he had either made or replicas of ones he acquired. Before entering the workshop in the back of the store, he checked a photo he took of the store from the night before to make sure the store did not change.
Twenty minutes before his panic, Jean had sifted through the different orders he had accrued over the last few days. Most were simple enough to fulfill. He’d just needed to email the buyers that their orders were ready for pickup. He decided to do those later in the day, after he had had some time to put towards the more interesting orders. He started to prepare for a few standard repairs, a thankful lack of appraisals, and one custom commission.
The commission was for an intricate sterling silver ring with an embedded red gemstone and two small diamonds. The client had provided the red gemstone that kept drawing Jean’s eye every time it was on the table.
Five minutes before his panic, Jean delicately arranged his tools and materials on his workbench, getting ready to start working on the ring. There was no sound as he put his instruments on the black felt. The green gemstone wasn’t easily disturbed when placed down. Jean had raised an eyebrow and pushed it back very gently. It didn’t make any noise at all.
One minute before his panic, Jean had sketched the blueprint for the ring and measured out his silver. He worked the excess silver into a simple ring, and plastered it with an ovular red dot. He looked at the object with a frown. It was just a demo ring, and nowhere near the complexity or quality that he was planning for the commission, but he couldn’t help but think it was strange to look at.
Jean picked up the red gemstone out of curiosity. When he examined the stone, he thought of how the silver clutch is different from the dark crimson oval. Jean suddenly became extremely afraid.
Jean forced himself to jump out of the chair as he ran out of the workroom into the store. He accidentally knocked into a display case while doing so and watched it fall backwards, the glass shattering and the plaster it contained spilling onto the floor. He ran over to his door and tried to open it, but he didn’t leave The Immodest Necklace.
He left the key in his workshop. When he looked at the reflection in his shop window. He did not see anything but himself through the mirror of his door’s small circular window. There were no people outside on the streets, and no streets. Just a reflection of his own face, his sharp features and dark hair, his bright red eyes. Red eyes?
Jean took an involuntary step back before leaning back towards the window so he could look at his eyes again. Surprisingly, they were green, as they’d always been. He blinked and forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. He saw the display case and plaster replicas he destroyed. He gave a deep breath. He had to deal with the broken glass — it would take a day’s work to remake them all.
He laughed at the idea that he would remake the plaster replicas — it seemed suddenly absurd. Why would he even bother when he had such important work to do in the back? He laughed again and walked towards his workshop before pausing.
“That was a strange thought,” he muttered out loud, looking back to the shattered display case. He realized someone might cut themselves on the glass from the display cases, and he would have to make actual items to put on display.
“That thought wasn’t strange at all, it made perfect sense to me,” said the customer. Jean slowly nodded and turned back to his workshop before walking inside it. There, sitting on his workbench, was the demo ring. Lying next to it was the gemstone.
He felt another chill down his spine as he regarded the two objects. His lips curled into a smile as he gazed at the red oval. They curled in disgust as he regarded the demo ring he’d made. It was so crude and inelegant, entirely the wrong way to display the glimmering beauty of the stone. Jean scoffed in sudden disgust at the client who had abandoned the red gemstone in his care and who had presumed to know the shape that it should take. A ring would never be enough for it.
Jean did not recall sitting down, but he started working on the blueprint. It will be more bold and beautiful than the ring itself. A bracelet would be perfect for the gem instead of being restricted by the ring.
He shaped his silver out and worked it into two shapes; a clutch and a clasp, for the front and back of his masterpiece. The gemstone would be happily nestled in silver, held and loved in riches and shining splendor. Jean glanced down at his workbench and frowned, noting that he’d use most of the silver for the front and back. He realized he’d need more to continue working, but soon nausea filled his stomach and he felt sweat bead at his temples and between his eyes. The gemstone needed something else to hold it together. A different type of material is required. He was wondering what could be better.
Jean’s hand was suddenly holding a cluster of bone shards, still wet with blood and he was in shock. However, his surprise wasn’t because of their sudden appearance nor how strangely familiar the sharp bone felt against his skin. He was amazed that he hadn’t thought of using the material sooner. Silver for one side to represent wealth people want, while the other half will be bone, that wealth that people despair to keep.
With a skill he hadn’t even known he possessed, Jean lovingly formed the shards into strips, the same as he did with silver. He folded the bone and attached it to the clasp. He wasn’t sure how long he worked, but he didn’t want to stop.
His head grew lighter and his breathing grew unsteady as he worked longer, longer, and still longer, fervently creating perfection. Jean knew without a shadow of a doubt that making this bracelet would be his masterpiece, his significant work, the validation of his existence. And then, finally, it was done. He looked upon it with loving red eyes.
The fear returned as suddenly as the pain came into being. Jean cried out wordlessly as he looked at the beautiful and terrible thing he had created. His soul resounded with pulsing waves of evil, evil, evil. He raised his hand ready to throw the object on the desk, but could not bring himself to destroy the object. The fear reasserted itself after he placed the piece on the felt. Jean then bolted from his chair.
He fell to the ground as he tried to balance on improper footing. Then, Jean looked at his right leg and realized where the shards of bone on his masterpiece come from, he screamed and clutched at the blood. The denim and skin were cleanly split down his shin, where torn muscles were peeled back and spilling out of him. There was little left of the bone under the meat.
Jean scraped his way along the floor of his workshop, trying desperately to get out, to find help, to get rid of what he had so terribly accomplished. In a pathetic crawl, he clambered forwards, trying to support his weight between his trembling hands and remaining leg and accomplishing little past lodging discarded tools into his body.
The customer stepped over his struggling form and picked up the bracelet. Their nonexistent eyes roamed over the gem, and a smile formed on their face. They placed it upon their wrist and walked out of the workshop, to watch as Jean struggled to cross his storeroom floor. The jeweler felt his hands come to ribbons as he dragged them through broken glass, making his way to the door, to outside and safety. He tried desperately to cry but found he had no tears to shed, his sight fast fading, the sounds he was making growing dimmer even as his thrashing grew more spasmodic. He didn’t make it to the door.
The customer watched Jean’s last breath with growing anticipation. They waited a heartbeat, then another. As soon as they were sure he was dead, the customer looked again to the bracelet upon their wrist. The flawless gemstone shone a bright and brilliant crimson.
“I was right about you, Jean. You really are an artist.”
The customer smiled at the corpse, their loving gaze not leaving the gem as they walked out through the locked door.
Charles Cote is a current undergraduate student, double majoring in supply chain & English. He’s an avid reader of Junji Ito, Brandon Sanderson, and Robin Hobb. While he writes all kinds of fiction, he’s drawn towards making sci-fi and horror and loves Dungeons & Dragons style adventures.