Stroke of Luck

Chapter One

Smoke. It burns my lungs and I hate the taste but it's beautiful. Its fleeting nature is hard to capture but I keep painting as the foliage I collected earlier burns. I reach beside myself while I paint and I lift my mug of tea to my lips. "God damn it!" I spit the water out onto my canvas. "Shit!" I jump to my feet dropping paint brushes onto the ground. I grab a rag to wipe the water away. This is the third time I've drank my brush water and not my mug of tea. Green tea is good for the... I honestly forgot what it's good for, it's just good. I close my eyes and let out a long sigh. I Hear footsteps approaching and I know who it is before she speaks.

"Oh, are you going to paint me like one of your french ladies?" Eri questioned while striking a lazy pose.

I rolled my eyes, "Sorry, not today. Maybe if you let me have one of those nuggets in your bag though."

Her eyes hardened. "Fuck off, if you even touch them you lose a finger." She dropped her bag onto the ground before sitting on the blanket next to my canvas.

"Why don't you take a break from painting... What are you painting?"

"Smoke. I'm painting smoke and no, I can't take a break. The art show is this weekend." I wearily glanced at the mug in my hand before I took a sip. I drank the last of my tea before I began finishing the last details of the painting.

"You know you could stay in my dorm with me for a couple days, right?" Eri began, " It would give you some time away from Mom and Dad so you can focus this weekend."

I paused. "You know I can't-"

"Won't"

"Fine, I won't stay with you. I'll be able to move out soon, so you don't need to worry."

"Okay." I could feel Eri's gaze on me before she lifted her bag, "If you ever need me, call. I have class."

I need to finish this before I go home so it is dry enough to varnish tonight. I had the other six pieces in my collection complete already. It took me a year and a half to create my pieces for this show. My collection is called Aftermath. It held some of my most impressive pieces to date. This collection held a lot of emotion and growth as an artist. The show I made these pieces for is the largest art show in New York. I was a miracle I got in.

I began to lose light as the sun set behind the mountains. I lifted my face to the sky as I took a deep breath. Exhaling as I stood, I began to pack all my supplies and headed home. The trip back was a short distance but I felt my feet dragging on the asphalt. Once I hit our driveway I noticed there was an extra car. Three cars sat unmoving and looming in the driveway. My parents had company. I'm thrilled.

I opened the front door and was met with warmth and the acrid scent of beer. Home sweet home. As I stepped over the barrier of the front door I heard glass shatter. My heart dropped and I felt sweat beginning to form on my palms. I looked down and realized my canvas knocked a beer bottle off the small cabinet by the door.

"Oliver, is that you my sweet child?" My Mother slurred and she swayed and stumbled towards me.

"Mom, wait! Stop!" My Mom cried out before I could stop her.

My feet were glued to the floor, "You piece of shit! Why is there glass on the floor, why didn't you clean up your mess!"She screamed at me, "you're ungrateful. You ruined my life."

I felt the sting of her hand on my face before I saw it. As she pulled her arm back to hit me again, Dad yelled that he needed another beer. "I'll get your fucking beer, Dan!"

She turned, glaring at me like I was a peice dirt on the floor, and left me standing in the door. Before she could think about coming back, I picked up my canvas that I dropped and ran up the stairs and into the bedroom at the far end of the hall. I closed the door and sighed at the noise that could be heard from down stairs. Fighting, they are always fighting.

I gently laid the canvas on my floor and dropped my bags onto my bed. I returned to the canvas on the floor and began surveying the damages done to the canvas from being dropped. I ran my thumb over the small crease in the corner of the canvas and the paint that was scraped away. The damage wasn't noticeable and I was able to restore the marred areas by mixing up some matching paint. After I let the paint dry, I applied the first layers of varnish over the canvas. I sat back and examined my work. My hands and body ached from the hours of work I had put in but I managed to finish the last painting in my collection the day before the show.

I stood up and began cleaning. I stored my canvas away so it wouldn't be damaged for tomorrow. I kept having dizzy spells and my heart rate picked up but I pushed through. It's just my body trying to right itself from me standing so quickly. However, that thought was quickly proven wrong.

My vision was beginning to blur and my heartbeat picked up. I stumbled into my bathroom as my legs collapsed. I felt like I couldn't breathe and I was so nauseous. I opened the cabinet and reached for the yellow and blue pill bottle. I dumped it into my hand before grabbing one and swallowing it. I pushed my hand forward again, grasping onto a cool bottle of liquid before throwing the lid off and drinking some as I laid on the bathroom floor.