In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
The last time I think I had a portrait taken of me was probably a couple of days before my graduation at Standford after obtaining my doctorate in Chemistry. I had studied for four hard years broadening my understanding of the subject material, conducting experiments on theories I had devised personally, and defending my thesis to the critique of the committee of the Chemistry department.
It was a well-deserved accomplishment of mine, one that was captured forever in the essence of a photograph that my mother kept posted in her album filled with many moments of my life including my multiple graduations. She even kept a full-sized one in her office at the practice she founded once she completed her residency as a doctor.
In this world though, there were no cameras. The ability to click away, change poses, and backgrounds, and be on your way seemed to be a figment of the imagination that only one who would be marked as clinically insane would come up with.
That was how I found myself in a foul mood when it came time for my turn to have my portrait commissioned by the artist my grandmother hired.
I really had to sit in one place for hours while someone painted me into the scenery in order to capture the "true essence" of my being as a child who really couldn't be bothered by the entire ordeal.
Infuriating.
It was the only word that would to my mind about the time being spent doing something so frivolous when I had better things to occupy my time with.
And that is why I brought a book to help entertain me for the duration of the time the artists were going to need to paint me accordingly.
"Lady Lavania, if possible, please sit up tall and straight as you read your book?" The painter's voice sounded timid and scared as if it was taking everything in him to make that request of me.
I slowly turned to him, my head mirroring that of a cabbage patch kid due to the large sun hat I wore over my head. It was sky blue and white and matched the designs of my mixed-colored dress. The attire itself featured loads of silk and lace not to mention the bows and frills; I felt like I looked like an attraction of a cartoon or something.
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Now I had to sit properly for God knows how long just to get a painting right! How was I supposed to relax comfortably and read when I was stuck in such an unnatural position? I was already sitting on my knees, allowing the skirt of the dress to lay sprawled out underneath me.
It would be criminal if I didn't mention that it was still summer weather here in Bria, so there was an underlying layer of discomfort added to that due to the heat and I was sweltering as a result.
"How much longer shall I do this for? I'm extremely uncomfortable and unhappy." I replied to the painter.
He chuckled nervously and swallowed hard, "Well... Lady Lavania I want to be sure that I capture the full essence of your ladyship in this portrait, so it's best to take my time." He replied vaguely.
