Nova Luna

Twenty-four - Thanatos

Sunday.

Believe me, I tried. But here I was, driving on my way to the gallery. Boredom got the best of me. I was really holding back from returning to that place, fearing that I would see a particular girl again.

It wasn't that I didn't want to, because I did miss her and I still couldn't stop thinking about her. I even saw her in one of my dreams a few nights ago.

But I couldn't deal with all the canvas lying around my condominium unit—most were unfinished, and some were untouched. I was struggling to paint, and I even tried to redo the "warped time" thing, because it was the last one I did good.

And sadly, I couldn't make it again.

I hoped that Mr. Thomas would inspire me again. I missed that old man. 

I stepped out of my car, and noticed that the gallery seemed a bit gloomy. All lights were off, no visitors in sight.

Even the friendly receptionists, and janitors weren't there to clean up. But the front door was open. I started to get a little nervous, but I still went inside.

"Hello?" My voice echoed and reverberated through the empty gallery. "Is anyone here?"

I heard a soft cry from the hallways. I followed its origins and there I found Damian looking at one of the old man's works.

"Damian?" I asked and approached him. "What happened?"

He looked at me with his wet eyes.

I spent the whole day with him. He told me everything.

They had been planning the art parade for about a year now. Unfortunately, every potential sponsor they had approached turned them down.

But Mr. Thomas really wanted to make the art parade happen, saying that it could encourage more people to be interested in making art. It would also bring more buyers, and increase their business profits. 

But the most important thing that this parade would do would be to promote art: to inspire some unnoticed artists, or undiscovered talents, just like Mr. Thomas did for me. I was aware that he was fond of me.

Damian had told me that out of all the painters Mr. Thomas was teaching, I was the one who he really kept an eye on. I was the kind of painter he was hoping he'd meet after the much delayed parade.

From days to months, the art parade was continuously getting delayed. Even the private event Damian threw a month ago didn't bring any interested sponsors. 

And out of desperation just to make the parade a reality, Mr. Thomas went to the bank to apply for loans. But he wasn't approved for one.

It was when he was about to leave the bank that the robbers came in. He became their hostage. Things went from bad to worse.

"He..." Damian sobbed. "...Dad got shot two times." Damian covered his eyes with his right hand.

While I was shocked to find out that Mr. Thomas was his father, I could feel how heartbroken he was. Mr. Thomas was just as important to me. 

"E-Elios," he stuttered. "I-it was his birthday."

"I'm so sorry, Damian." I was holding back my tears.

Damian continued to speak with me, gathering all his strength to stop him from breaking down right there in the halls of the gallery.

He told me about how glad Mr. Thomas was when he met me, how he said that I was proving his point that there were artists out there who were not getting any attention, artists that have that untapped and undiscovered talent.