3: Haunted

 Donghae sat staring at the canvas before him. Time had flown fast past days far too busy of late that he'd barely had the time to think or at the least remember. Much had happened in the gaps between sleep and awareness. He had hoped for plenty when first his work had been displayed but never in his wildest imagination had he seen the events that had led him to his present situation's occurrences.

It had been a fortnight passed the day of his first exhibition when he had received a curious phone call from a man unknown telling him to appear at the PYO gallery within the Nature Poem building in Gangnam-gu that evening at eight.

"And don't dress up." the man had instructed loudly into Donghae's ear before abruptly hanging up. It had been around six thirty in the morning, one fine Saturday, and Donghae had mentally cursed the person who'd deigned call him at such an hour before listening to all he'd had to say and jotting down relevant details about the place he was told to be that night.

He had dressed in his most casual wear- blue checked shirt buttoned down accompanied by a pair of faded blue jeans- and headed on to the address given. He hadn't a clue what to expect and so it had been with curious anticipation that he'd stepped into the gallery. The view that had met his eyes had been confounding. The walls were bare of anything but white paint and the floor donned hardwood that sparkled in the gallery's artificial lighting. Donghae had wandered in to find the place empty with not a soul around. His wonderment had led him further into the space, sending him exploring its vastness until his explorations found him facing the very reason he was there- or so he had assumed. It was a neatly hand written note of invitation. As Donghae read each scribbled word, he begun to see what the point of his appearance had been.

Dear Mr Lee Donghae

We at the PYO Gallery South are truly happy to have the opportunity to invite you to exhibit at our renowned gallery. As you may be aware, we pride ourselves in promoting South Korea's finest artists, like yourself, in hopes of spreading word of all talented prospects worldwide. We were unfortunate enough to not be available to deliver our invitation to you personally, but despite that we wished to offer you the opportunity and whilst doing so, show you the space which would be available to you to display your work should you choose to accept our offer. You will find the official agreement letter will be sent to you right after we have spoken in person. We know it may all seem hurried but rest assured that we will give you sufficient time to compile a worthy collection for our official reopening. We hope to hear from you soon.

Kind Regards

The note was signed and marked with the necessary details for Donghae to contact who he came to realise was the director of the PYO. He had folded it neatly and placed it in his back pocket, heading out with an unrecognisable feeling having swirled around his heart. He wasn't all too certain that he was ready for such an enormous responsibility. He had just barely come down from the high his first display had caused and felt it doubtful that the world would want to see his work in such vast amounts so soon after his debut. Despite his doubt, however, Donghae knew the greatness of the opportunity presented before him. He was never one to turn down a challenge and so it was with determined steps that he headed home in hopes of finding new ideas to fill the many blank canvases lying about his home that had yet to taste the glorious touch of colour.

  Walking home from Apgujeong Road was quite redolent of that night two weeks past. The weather had brightened slightly by day but the night still kept its briskness a while longer. The colours were clearing I'd their mist and the night was coming slower with each passing day. Seasons where changing before him yet his mind travelled back to that cold Winter night when much had happened and much had been unexplained. A simple jolt if the senses had sprung him back into an awareness he hasn't known that he had lost. He saw colour once more and felt again. The feeling, however, had done naught but cause a rising distress within him.

Even as the chill faded and the nights brightened, Donghae found himself fondling the glove that now remained a significant fixture within each pocket he donned. With each brush of worn fluff that his senses each time he dug into his pocket, that fading winter's night would flash before his gaze as though it was happening all over again. He had witnessed fineness beyond explanation that night, perhaps fine only to his eyes but nonetheless, that beauty had awaked a long dormant desire within him. Once again he felt as though his wanting was no crime. The stolen privilege of needing to want something had gone with his parents but that night... That night it had found its way back to him, haunted him even in his dreams. He wanted to see the gloved man again, to return what was his if for no other reason. 

Donghae the lights to find everything as it was when he'd left an hour before. Transcendent as his thoughts may have been as he'd thought back to that night, he realised his reality when the silence of his home greeted him like the gong of a thousand bells. The silence was piercingly deafening and the realisation that his desires would change nothing about his loneliness too obvious in the stillness of his apartment. But he had work to do and no time to dwell on lonesome thoughts. He headed to his home studio and placed canvas upon easel. Usually, his mind would assist his hands in filling the white blankness of the canvas but as he sat staring at the indented sheet of fabric he could only see that stalking figure on a cold winter's night. Without thought his hands began to drift across the page sketching lines unknown to fill the emptiness before him. Hours passed before he came to see what his mind had instructed his graphite stained hands to relay on the sheet. His eyes became transfixed and his heart ponded at the preposterously obvious sight before him. A back turned to face him while the figure to whom it belonged wrapped sleek arms around shivering body. Folds of fabric fell from shoulders upturned whilst a sharp chin rested at the one shoulders peak. Those eyes were piercing even in stillness. It was like the shadow of a ghost, watching from within Donghae’s mind. He placed the pencil he’d used to create the skeleton of this ghost in the fissure of his ear and watched as the drawing of a stranger came to life before his glazed eyes. It beckoned him towards it but as he felt himself edging closer it beckoned him away. A sheet of canvas was all that lay before him yet his eyes saw much, much more. 

  Standing from the stool upon which he’d been seated Donghae made his way to his computer. He typed away in large fonts until finally he clicked to print. He could hear the printer embed hot ink onto white sheets of paper, warm as he took them into his hand for final examination before setting about placing them up

***Model required fir artist at a negotiable fee. Please contact Lee Donghae at XXX if interested in the position.***

 Donghae had placed all relevant contact details on the short advert and went about placing the sheets about town. His hope was less to find a suitable model for his new collection that it was to forget the face that stained the abandoned canvas in his studio. He feared that if he didn’t find a distraction from that stranger soon, he’d fail to complete the task honoured to him and hence fail himself. 

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