The Four Nudes painting* was stolen. No one panicked but the curator. She pleaded to the robbers until her voice became hoarse. She was really in anguish because she was responsible for it under her watch. After all, it was an iconic painting depicting four naked women – women weltering together in the heat and the unquenchable thirst of their barren passion. And it was one of the popular paintings in the gallery. Whoever stole it must have used a serrated knife as they found it near the empty frame.
Police were called. They didn’t panic. They treated it as an ordinary crime. Crimes were significantly higher in urban areas like this and there were more serious crimes about which to be worried. They did the interviewing, wrote some reports and filed it somewhere.
As for me, I’ve got to have my Scripturient. It’s got to be written for posterity. So even with my callus fingers, I stayed all night writing it – all of the grisly details of the crime. Who might have stolen it, what could have happened and all the extras in it. Fascinating stuff, this Scripturient of mine. I’ve finished a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc by the time I completed the article.
*Please note: this is all fiction – no one stole the painting, really.