La Visca de Lacrime

Literally translated, the title is Italian for the Tub of Tears. In one of my history classes, we heard of a president who constructed a tub with so many shower heads and all sorts of useless things and it just got me thinking. Needless to say, I had writ

I'm going to tell you a story that is only half true.
You see, it wouldn't be as interesting were it fact.
Who knows, though, one day, I might tell you.
This story focuses on a tub.
Yes, a bathtub.
You may laugh at this, but it was an extraordinary tub.
The faucet dripped laughter, yet the drain feasted upon sin.
The lions feet that made up its base were rumored to have originally stood on the sands of the beaches that Zeus claimed for paradise.
The tub itself was crafted from dreams and lullabies and no matter how many times you bathed in it, your body would always smell of honeysuckle and your hair would be as soft as rose petals.
This tub was fashioned by the hands of virgins and molded to lustful perfection by the most vile of sinners.
This tub, in and of itself, was a hypocrite in every way.
Made for sinners to wash away their past, the Gods saved it for themselves to make them feel bubbly and guiltless.
It just so happened that one day, a tall, dark man, buried in blood money, bought this tub. Sparkling like the laughter in children's eyes with the scent of innocence permeating the very air around it as warmth would radiate from the sun, this was a rare find indeed.
Now, when I say buy, I mean, of course, to take it from where the man found it on the enclosed beaches on a forbidden island that only money can sail you to.
While transporting this find onto his estate, the tub somehow aquired a chip. It was small, but any minor fracture can over time become a leak that can ultimately sink a ship. Regardless of its ruined immaculate face, the man still chose to keep it in his home, simply turning it the opposite way.
The real interesting part is that on the scarred face, something was written in a lost language which to this day has not yet been deciphered, but the man's act was shameful enough that it pushed the tub to work... Well, backwards.
Instead of washing away your sins, you bathed in all of the sins it accumulated.
This man, thought it was an ingenious gift from the gods, the way the water came from the drain, and as he stepped out, the water would be sucked up through the faucet, never once making a sound.
For years, he felt no changes, having been a very sinful man himself to begin with, the tub had little trouble hiding smaller sins underneath his skin.

At last, the man's time came to leave this world and his last request was to be placed in his tub. As his wish was granted, the water bathed him as it always did, giving him the youth that had been stolen from him by time.

And so, in this manner, the tub and the man shared many a year together. Anywhere from a couple of decades to a couple of milenia, changing his face as often as needed in order to arouse no suspicions in their cozy little lives.

The tub, after so long, ran out of sin.

The man, now on his deathbed again, went to his tub and placed himself in the familiar position inside, closing his eyes as to bathe, but he was never comforted by the water's smooth embrace.
He made peace with his fate: To rot as time intended.
But he did not die, oh the Gods were not so kind.
No, he was left to live as the tub crumbled to tears.
The man locked himself up in the room of his lifeline, never emerging again.
To this day, some say he grew the wings he unknowingly deserved, black to match the heart he lost.
Others say he rotted with his estate, though, even when the house was set to be demolished, no one ever could tear it down. Every entrance, known or newly created, somehow repelled all those who dared to enter and even the most skilled of theives could not break down its barriers.
 

Author's Note

This might be unfinished, but I'm really bad about posting second and third chapters. Bear with me, or give me suggestions. :P