this week’s task was to..just write anything. i have been agonising over this, but finally came up with the below. enjoy !
She stands in front of the canvas, frantically looking from corner to corner, shaking with the energy of creation. Imagining what is about to come. The morning glow slips through the binds, adding colour to her less than tanned skin, shown off by the blue tank top the covers her upper half. Green baggy khakis cover the lower, and a tattoo of a wing adorns her arm. A one winged angel.
First stab at the canvas. Sketchy, abstract lines. An outline. She wields the brush like she’s in a knife fight, agile movements, moving from one point to the next in no seconds flat.
An artist? You’re never going to make it as an artist! Why can’t you be a doctor or a lawyer? Such a let down of a daughter you are, I am not letting you live some pipe dream, get out !
She stops. Takes a drink of coffee. A deep breath. And back. More detail, a touch of colour. Some styling. A doodle, a note in the corner. The work starts to take form. Another sip of coffee. Her eyes widen. Back into the fight.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry it had to be like this. It’s just never going to work. This is hard on me as well you know! I loved you..and now I don’t. It’s just how it is ! Stop crying, I’ll always remember you…these tattoos don’t exactly scrub off…
Sweating, she squats before the incomplete work, takes another sip of coffee. It catches a cut in her lip and burns. Sweat seeps into the cut, cleaning it out, but she does not care.
“I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die..”
It is done. The colours stare back at her in a way only she would understand and she sheds a single tear. All the pain fuels her gift, and there is only so much she can take. And in the corner it reads;
I wake up each morning
and drink down the cool summer
like it is sweet sweet wine
I suck it up
then blow it out, like smoke
from a cigarette
and it dissipates
like the little thoughts