The Shadow That Smiled At Me

Chapter twenty three

We just had art class, Annabelle told us to paint what best describes us. She said it in words. "Express your own self through art." There were about twenty of us, canvases on easels in front of us. We had at our disposal every possible paint that exists, brushes and various other supplies that I don't even know what they were for.

I just stood there staring at the immaculate whiteness of the canvas in front of me, while the others were engrossed in their work.

Annabelle came to me. "You're going to keep scowling at that canvas like that for a while and maybe it's going to catch on fire," she joked.

"At least there would be something on it," I replied.

"Why aren't you painting anything?" she finally asked me. "You can draw absolutely anything. Who are you, Arya?" she added.

"Ha! Good question." I gave her a sarcastic smile. "However, this whole task has one problem, several problems. The first is that I don't want to do it at all. Second, in my case, your assignment is unfulfillable and the question unanswerable. Although, I'm starting to think that this blank canvas best describes me. Nothing. It doesn't describe anything, because I can't be described."

There was laughter from across the room. Jace. Both Annabelle and I looked at him. Our eyes met. He gave me a cocky smile. Now I have no idea if he's laughing at me or something else.

We went back to my canvas and ignored him. "Just paint something, okay?" Annabelle said one last time, leaving me alone.

"That's easy to tell," I muttered to myself grumpily.

I stood there looking at the field of white thinking about how to tarnish that purity. Finally, I picked up a brush, dipped it in paint and let my hands do what they wanted. I'll see what comes of it. I went deep into the bowels of my mind, not even noticing what I was actually doing. The brush seemed to move by itself.

I was only snapped out of my trance by a hand wrapping around my shoulders. I winced. It was Jace.

"Dark," he said, examining my image.

I looked at what I had painted. An ebony sky, a high cliff rising from the stormy waves the color of night, reaching the shore. And at the very top stands a girl, her white dress blowing in the wind. One single step separates her from falling. One step from darkness. I have drawn this frightening scene from my dreams many times, but this time it is different, something has changed. A shadow stands there watching to see if he jumps or backs away. The shadow that saves her from damnation.

"I like dark ones," I replied dejectedly.

"Me too." he smiled widely, revealing white teeth. "But I don't think I'm as good as you."

He grabbed my hand and led me to his stand. He showed me his work. "What do you say?"

A skull overgrown with moss and plants stood out against the black background. Some have already bloomed, others are still budding. Red blood oozed out of it's eye sockets.

"I think I have some serious competition," I declared. But the truth is that there was hope in his painting - even something bad can be beautiful - but in mine there was tragedy. The tragedy of what society will do to you if you don't fit in.

"You two have a similar melancholy in you," Annabelle said from behind my cursed image. I liked the word she used, and since then I've been using it almost constantly.

I looked at Jace to see if at least he understood those words. He grimaced and shook his head. Apparently, he was lost in it too.

The class was over. We walked down the hall, Jace still hanging around my neck. Even though I shook his hand, he returned it again in a few seconds.