YAFF Prize Winner: “The Masterpiece”
by Nirali, Grade 7, Indian
A crowd formed around the tall street artist who wore a long coat and a black top hat. He set up his easel, crunching the autumn leaves below, and glanced around for a volunteer to pose for a portrait. Indigo curtains of the night sky set the scene where the river mirrored the stars and tourists scanned the banks for an evening pastime. Cameras flashed as they captured the hustle and bustle on the cobbled paths and the painter spotted just the right lady to model for his next masterpiece. “Madam!” he called out to her, “Would you care to step out and allow me to paint an excellent portrait of you? I will do you justice, I promise.”
Dressed in a magenta velvet gown and aristocratic jewelry, the lady acquiesced to sit down and pose for the artist while her companion stood by to watch. Engaging his subject in conversation, the artist requested her to stare steadily at a strange symbol resembling a family crest, painted at the back of his easel, so that he could make the portrait as accurate as possible. Organizing his materials, he placed his first expert stroke across the pure whiteness of the canvas. Soon enough, he was done with an outline of the lady’s well-defined features.
Gazing at the symbol, the lady seemed still and enchanted as if the world had frozen around her and even when the painter approached her to adjust her ruby necklace, she did not stir. Her companion, in awe of the artwork taking shape, appeared proud of his lady’s elegant beauty that even the spectators admired. Wavy tendrils of hair appeared on the canvas as the portrait neared completion and the audience eagerly awaited the model’s reaction to the artist’s near perfect representation of her.
However, just as the painter was about to sign his name, a stocky figure emerged through the crowd, apparently attempting to catch the lady’s attention by flailing his hands in the air. Keen to get the intruder out of the way, the artist confronted him and quietly threatened, “Step back or face the consequences.” Loud protests arose from the spectators whose entertainment had been disrupted and they jostled amongst themselves to get a better view of the drama.
At the sound of the commotion, the lady jerked her head as if waking up from a deep sleep. Noticing this, the painter backed away to the easel and hurriedly wrapped up his tools. He whisked the portrait into the startled hands of the lady’s companion, ignoring the payment proffered to him. “No need, no need!” he muttered. On turning around to pick up his belongings, he found himself nose-to-nose with the intruder who brandished a pair of handcuffs. In desperation, the artist searched for an escape but curious passersby had blocked all paths. Before he knew it, his hands were held firmly behind his back, cold metal pressing against his skin.
The intruder hurled rapid-fire questions and orders, as he took off his overcoat to reveal a policeman’s uniform. Realizing that he had been overpowered, the prisoner capitulated and admitted his offence to the amazement of all who listened, especially the lady who had posed for him. Seemingly, she still wore her precious ruby necklace.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down. If you are curious to learn the reason for this turmoil, the answer is simple,” the policeman proclaimed. “Ma’am, the necklace you wear is fake,” he turned to address the lady, and held up a similar necklace he had snatched from the artist’s pocket. “These two necklaces appear identical. However, there is an imperceptible nuance. I have the original that belongs to you. Look, it has a pair of initials engraved at the back of its pendant, unlike its counterfeit,” he clarified, as the onlookers gasped.
Returning the lady’s necklace to her, the policeman continued, “This man has committed yet another scheming burglary right under our noses. Very few know that in addition to being a skilled artist, he is also a master of hypnotism and sleight of hand, skills he misuses to hoodwink his victims.”
“Well, that explains why I remained oblivious when he swapped the two necklaces!” declared the lady in disgust. She handed the fake one to her partner and clutched on to hers carefully. “To give the devil his due, we must admire the craftiness and skill with which he executed his masterpiece, both in crime and in art.”
The spectators nodded and gradually dispersed into the night, murmuring their thoughts about what had just transpired. The policeman herded the culprit away, brushing past the couple who now stood in deep conversation.
“What is the matter? Why do you still look perplexed? All’s well that ends well, isn’t it?” demanded the lady of her companion who stared by turns at the portrait in one hand and the necklace in the other.
      “Read this,” the gentleman ordered, pointing to a scribbled note attached to the back of the canvas and inscribed with a symbol now familiar.
      “You hold this letter because I have been caught,” the lady read aloud. “Please forgive me. I am not a thief. All I wanted was to restore the priceless family heirloom that your ancestors stole from mine many decades ago. I traced its journey to you over several generations by laboriously analyzing portraits and photographs. Since I did not have the riches to buy back the ruby necklace, I contrived a plot to slip it away from you. This was my way of ensuring that justice was done.”
      “Why didn’t he engrave the initials on the duplicate, if he was so crafty?” wondered the lady’s companion.
      “Don’t you see? He could never have known what lay behind the pendant, as none of the paintings or photos revealed it!” deduced the lady, smiling. “Just one flaw betrayed him.”
She flipped her own necklace to caress the engraved initials on the pendant. Her smile faded. All she felt was a smooth, flawless, unetched surface.
