Magical Places

I love fairs, flee markets, the mall, basically anywhere that you can buy interesting stuff. I loved it. When I was 7 years old I was with my parents at this fair of sorts. There was all types of interesting items for sale I personally think it was more of a market rather than a fair, but my dad said a fair sounded more interesting. He would always tell me things to make everything more interesting, filling my head with amazing tails of the journey's he went on. Like the time when he fought dragons underground, or conquered a band of ogres with an army of Vikings, or of his best friend Sigurd. However, mom told me that Sigurd was his imaginary best friend when he was younger and his "memories" were just his make-believe adventures. He denies it.

My dad is my favorite person even though I rarely see him he is always working on his art and sees me every now and then. So I wasn't surprised when I saw his at an art stand looking at all the pieces and talking with the artist. my mother just sighed and told me to either go with her or dad. I obviously chose dad his love of art rubbed off on me. The world of art was just so immersive, every stroke of paint to every beginning sketch was beautiful. I liked to imagine every time I stroked my pencil on the paper, it was a waterfall sliding effortlessly down the page and meeting its end leading only into more beauty. I walked up to the table where my dad was standing at. He acknowledged me then proceeded to talk with the man. I gazed at all the art that was hung up until a stranger invaded my train of thought.

"Beautiful ain't it." The man said.

I jolted a bit not expecting someone to talk to me, and looked at the man. He had a short thin white beard, and wrinkles all over his face, but the most notable thing about him was his smile. It was a smile that told you "Hi, I'm that most friendly face you're ever going to meet." I nodded then looked back at the painting.

"This ones my favorite." The old man said pointing to a painting of a man battling a dragon.

"That's my favorite too." I said enthusiastically. He smiled at my excitement. How much I wished I could make art like that.

"Do you want to make art like that someday?" It was like he was reading my mind. I nod violently. He chuckles lightly and reaches into a drawer behind him and pulls out a black pen that looked kind of old. He proceeded to hand it to me.

"Keep drawing kid." He gives me one more of his contagious smiles as my dad ushers me to the car.

On the ride home I think my parents were arguing, but I couldn't really focus on then I was completely enveloped around this pen that the old man gave me. It was cold to the touch no matter how long I held it, and sent a tingly sensation through my body when ever I held it. But above all I COULDN'T WAIT TO DRAW SOMETHING WITH IT!

When we got home it was about 5 in the afternoon and my parents started dinner still talking about something, but I played no attention to it and ran upstairs to find some paper.

Once I found some in one of my drawers I immediately set down the paper and was about to start drawing when my dad called my name.

I sighed before running down the stairs leaving the pen on the desk.

"What dad?" I ask him impatiently wanting to get back to my drawing.

"Calm down, it's time for dinner."

I huffed my way down the stairs not really wanting dinner. My dad must have saw my desire to go back upstairs so he crouches down and whispers to me.

"I think it would be okay for you to eat upstairs just this once." He said with a wink.

I smile overjoyed and quickly grab a sandwhich and just as quickly bolt upstairs. I heard my mom shout in protest, but not to me, to my dad Henry. She only says Henry when something is wrong but I'm sure its fine.

I finish eating my sandwhich quick but before I could start drawing I here the door slam shut. It startles me a bit and I run to the window to see my mom driving away.

I walk downstairs and ask my dad where mom went.

"She is just going to stay with some of her family for a little while." He said with a smile. His sleeves were wet, and his eyes were red.

"When is mom coming home?"

"I don't know bud." He says dropping his smile. He quickly regains it for my sake but I'm already shaken.

Mom left us.

"Hey, buddy how about we do some drawing to cheer ourselves up." He beamed.

I threw him a quick smile and went upstairs to grab my new pen. Once I came back down I found him in out art room with paints and easels set up.

I immediately started drawing a dragon, they were my favorite.

He grabbed a bunch of blue, grey, and black paints and started making a mess on his canvas. I scrunched my nose in confusion at him.

"Dad, why are you ruining your canvas by splashing paint all over it?" He just chuckled at the comment.

"Art is more that pictures from real life or even our imagination. It's about the emotions behind the drawing. That's what people see and more importantly what feel. It's what seperates the good art from bad art." He clarifies.

"Well, I want to make good art." I exclaim. He smiles.

"Well then, make it with your soul."

I looked at my dragon and don't really feel anything from it so I scrap it and draw a new one before realizing I don't know how to draw from the soul.

"Dad, how do I draw from the soul?"

"Well, think about what you're feeling and thinking and just let all that out on the paper."

I thought about it for a second. What am I feeling? I feel angry at mom for leaving me and dad like what did we do wrong?!?! So I did what dad told me and let it all out on the paper. By the time I finished I was about to fall asleep on my paper it was so dark outside.

My dad tapped my shoulder turned me around, picked me up and before I fell asleep whispered in my ear.

"I love your dragon buddy."

News report the next day...

There was an accident on highway today killing one person Lydia Thomson, wife of Henry Thomson. Witnesses say they saw a large flying beast crash down on her car. Police assure everyone that everything is fine and it was just a malfunction within the car that made her lose control and drive into a large pole.