A 1,000-word picture | Day 2/2

A 1,000-word picture | Day 2/2

[ continued from yesterday … ]

And then it was Silence’s turn to get to work on them. Framed in a deep cherry rests the stapled canvas slathered in paint depicting the scene of a small girl child seated cross-legged upon a deep Persian rug looking out toward the viewer, at something small on her left shoulder. In front and to the right of her, a kneeling male figure postured in a gesture of pleading or curiosity looks harmless. With only the back of his head depicted, knowing what he thinks remains impossible. They both exist within the confines of what seems to be the depiction of an attic space in a typical, early 21st-century, American home. From the top left corner of the frame through the depiction of a large window in the background, to the bottom right corner, a beam of light slices the canvas into triangular thirds. Flecks of glitter shimmer all over the top as the last gesture the artist made. Dark, the space is made entirely of light.

Gently looking back at him, she continues, “If I leave, you will no longer exist.” He sits back onto his butt. “What?” “If I leave now with the ladybug, you will no longer exist.” “Why? How?” She takes a deep breath in. “Just tell him,” the ladybug insists with a slap to its forehead. “Silence,” she orders as Silence swoops in and lifts the ladybug out of the hole in the roof. She returns her attention to him, “You’ve been summoned here for the purposes of … education.” “From where?” “When,” she answers. “Where’s Wen?” he asks. “No, from when is what you want to know,” she explains. “What?” he asks again. She takes a deep inhale and a slow exhale, “Never mind.” “No, what. You have to tell me. I don’t understand,” he pleads. “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember,” she states. “Remember what? This? My life?” standing now, he nearly screams. “Yes,” she states as a matter of  fact. And with that, she makes green.

 


WC: 301

via Writing Practitioners’ Daily Writing Prompt