As he stood in front of the empty canvas, its rigid and thick edges stared back at him. While wishing for a life free of guilt, constraints, and demands, anxiety swirled around. The room, once vibrant, felt like a place of fear and unfamiliar loneliness.
"Oh Camille, my muse, where is the joy I felt at the thought of you? Where are my colors?" Bitter was his pain, a sharp blade on his heart. The unfortunate medley of tuberculosis and unidentified cancer was unable to save his wife, resulting in his current suffering.
The vulnerable artist, tormented by his spouse's death and financial hardship, found his canvases incomprehensible. His final artwork depicted her figure suspended in time, enveloped in hues of blue, fragile yet pure. As he brooded, the midday sun penetrated the small window of his house in Vétheuil. That brief but intense warmth convinced him to go out and walk among the flowers his lady always took care of.
While wandering in the garden of memories, he noticed the penny-farthing bicycle he had bought for his firstborn. He suddenly felt motivated to repair the vehicle and give it a fresh start. By maneuvering the pedals, crank, and seat, he quickly achieved his task, but knew he could do better and decided to repaint everything. Unbeknownst to him, his inspiration was slowly returning, gazing at the sky, he smiled. Feeling a sense of novelty, the clouds in his heart dissipated.
Claude Monet found his colors once again.
YOU ARE READING
Claude of the Sky
Historical FictionHello hello! This is a short (very short) story I wrote for NYCM (New York City Midnight) in December 2023. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! 🦊✨ Words Limit: 250; Genre: Historical Fiction; Action: Repairing a bicycle; Wor...