Inktober; Writers Edition!

Day 1: Dream

   I had a dream last night. Well, it could have been last afternoon, or morning, or evening. I'm not sure. All I know is that I went to sleep, and woke up, which I suppose used to mean it was the morning. There's not much I can do to tell time here. I gave that up a long time ago. The cement walls fill the room with darkness, and I am alone. But being alone is better than being with him. I'd spend an eternity here all by my self if it meant he never came back. If only there were windows, if only I were above ground. I would have light. I would see the sun, the trees, the clouds. Oh, how I miss them. I could have used the shackles to break out, or find some way to pick the lock and crawl through the window. I suppose that's why I was put down here, instead of up there. He's not an idiot.

   In this dream, I was in some sort of art museum, walking down walls covered in paintings of all different sizes. I couldn't exactly tell you what any of them looked like, expect for one. It was a woman falling off the edge of a cliff, and as she fell, she reached for the sky I couldn't make out her face. I stared at it for a bit, then awoke.

   It's funny, as I'd always wanted to be a painter. I thought maybe one day, my name would seen in a museum or gallery. I remember how I couldn't wait until I got my first buyer, but, I hadn't a choice. How I recall running to my mother with my lightly crumpled paper and washable Crayola paint. She always seemed so proud of me, and certainly exaggerated my skill. I guess she was a good liar, because I believed every little affirmation she told me. I'd cringe seeing my old work, I really couldn't bare to see it. Yet, I'd give anything to have just one picture here with me again. To hold that brush and fill up a blank canvas. To see hours of work turn into beauty when complete. It's been so long, I've probably forgotten how to paint, even if I did escape this place, even if I could. I suppose it was but a silly dream.

  Can you hear that? The garage door's opening. He's back, everyone.