c7_assassin
3rd Level Black Feather
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2007
- Messages
- 8,720
- Points
- 0
SURREY, N.S.- Darren Sanders, son of Samuel Rydout and Martha Sanders and one of the greatest artistic talents of his generation, died today at the age of 46, having lived a life of utter insignificance and bitter disappointment, dying unremarked and ill-loved by his few remaining family, due to complications brought on by liver disease and alcoholism.
Sanders, who at the age of 5 baffled his teachers during 'arts and crafts time' by producing photorealistic replications of images he had been shown only once, and who had to be treated several times by the school nurse for bruising and lacerations caused by 'falling down the stairs' and once for severe malnutrition, was found in a disheveled and disoriented state Monday night, three days after being evicted from his sister's home for repeated verbal threats and physical abusiveness.
Although possessed of the raw talent and undiluted emotive energy necessary to becoming a great artist, Sanders' abilities were frequently a source of pain and frustration to him, and only seemed to further alienate him from his peers and teachers. At the age of nine, he was suspended from school for caricaturing his school principal in perfect 40:1 scale on his school's football field, an act which would earn him three broken ribs and a punctured lung when his step-father was informed of his misbehaviour. At the age of thirteen, he had his skull fractured when five of his classmates slammed his head into a concrete sidewalk for being a ******.
Sanders, whose unseen and secret works include an artistic depiction of post-Katrina New Orleans that critics would have hailed as a 'beautiful and fearless expression of our nation's collective conscience' and a haunting still image of a small boy sitting alone, which would have been seen in centuries to come as the defining artistic effort of our age, dropped out Acadia University, to which he had been granted a partial academic scholarship, after a physical altercation with one of his professors over an alleged 'insensitive' content to one of his projects.
These irreplaceable works, like all his others, would be thrown into the trash and lost forever shortly after his death.
"I always said that little ****** would never amount to nothing," remarked Sanders' stepfather, Frank McCone, 77, at his step-son's wake. "He was always drawin' pictures. Never lift a finger to clean his room like me and his mother told him, but always with his damn pictures. Even, you took his crayons away, he's sit there with his finger in the air, drawing. It was the weirdest thing I ever did see."
"I didn't really know Darren," said Ashley Jamison, with whom the genius had been desperately in love since the age of nineteen, and who had frequently mocked him behind his back when Darren's clumsy efforts at courting her had been observed by her friends. "He was such a good, decent, warm person. I think we'll all miss him." Mrs. Jamison then rejoined her husband, leaving the funeral shortly thereafter.
Sanders, much like the other 4866 potential successors to the legacy of the greatest artist in the Western world, spent the remainder of his years on this planet vacillating between a string of temporary, dead-end jobs and unemployment, while in the grips of debilitating alcoholism and drug addiction, frequently relying on the charity of family members to survive. His superhuman talents wasted and unappreciated, he deliberately allowed them to atrophy in his final years, wilfully and enthusiastically working to destroy the one thing that had made him special, and therefore alone, for his entire, miserable life.
When reached for comment, Gereaux St. Stephane, curater of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam was quoted as saying "Who?"
Sanders, who at the age of 5 baffled his teachers during 'arts and crafts time' by producing photorealistic replications of images he had been shown only once, and who had to be treated several times by the school nurse for bruising and lacerations caused by 'falling down the stairs' and once for severe malnutrition, was found in a disheveled and disoriented state Monday night, three days after being evicted from his sister's home for repeated verbal threats and physical abusiveness.
Although possessed of the raw talent and undiluted emotive energy necessary to becoming a great artist, Sanders' abilities were frequently a source of pain and frustration to him, and only seemed to further alienate him from his peers and teachers. At the age of nine, he was suspended from school for caricaturing his school principal in perfect 40:1 scale on his school's football field, an act which would earn him three broken ribs and a punctured lung when his step-father was informed of his misbehaviour. At the age of thirteen, he had his skull fractured when five of his classmates slammed his head into a concrete sidewalk for being a ******.
Sanders, whose unseen and secret works include an artistic depiction of post-Katrina New Orleans that critics would have hailed as a 'beautiful and fearless expression of our nation's collective conscience' and a haunting still image of a small boy sitting alone, which would have been seen in centuries to come as the defining artistic effort of our age, dropped out Acadia University, to which he had been granted a partial academic scholarship, after a physical altercation with one of his professors over an alleged 'insensitive' content to one of his projects.
These irreplaceable works, like all his others, would be thrown into the trash and lost forever shortly after his death.
"I always said that little ****** would never amount to nothing," remarked Sanders' stepfather, Frank McCone, 77, at his step-son's wake. "He was always drawin' pictures. Never lift a finger to clean his room like me and his mother told him, but always with his damn pictures. Even, you took his crayons away, he's sit there with his finger in the air, drawing. It was the weirdest thing I ever did see."
"I didn't really know Darren," said Ashley Jamison, with whom the genius had been desperately in love since the age of nineteen, and who had frequently mocked him behind his back when Darren's clumsy efforts at courting her had been observed by her friends. "He was such a good, decent, warm person. I think we'll all miss him." Mrs. Jamison then rejoined her husband, leaving the funeral shortly thereafter.
Sanders, much like the other 4866 potential successors to the legacy of the greatest artist in the Western world, spent the remainder of his years on this planet vacillating between a string of temporary, dead-end jobs and unemployment, while in the grips of debilitating alcoholism and drug addiction, frequently relying on the charity of family members to survive. His superhuman talents wasted and unappreciated, he deliberately allowed them to atrophy in his final years, wilfully and enthusiastically working to destroy the one thing that had made him special, and therefore alone, for his entire, miserable life.
When reached for comment, Gereaux St. Stephane, curater of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam was quoted as saying "Who?"
Last edited:
