Xanadu

Chiaroscuro

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring... Marilyn Monroe

( A/N. The word 'Chiaroscuro' is a technical term used by artists and art historians for the use of strong contrasts between light and dark , usually bold contrasts affecting the whole composition. This totally fits Reylo in my humble opinion)

Black ink swirled and danced as a well worn paint brush was dipped in a cup of cold water. It was then applied to a blob of red paint. The hand that held the paint brush was confident at first, but then hesitated. This was all wrong.

Ben Solo sat back and glared at the canvas he was working on. It was impossible. This wasn't working.

In a fit of fury he launched the innocent brush across the room and heard it hit the wall with a crack, landing on top of a dusty art history book.

His tired eyes scanned his art studio. When was the last time he picked up after himself? The floor of the room was a mess of crumpled up compositions that he had given up on, a dusty violin sat lonely and forgotten in a corner, and several easels with unfinished paintings sat neglected and forgotten.

Pushing himself angrily off his stool, he ripped the offending sketch off the easel and began to tear it into tiny pieces.

He was tempted to just let the evidence of his latest failure fall unceremoniously to the floor, joining the other forgotten rubbish in its demise, but  then in an over dramatic gesture he walked over to the open window and with flourish, sacrificed the small pieces of paper to an apathetic wind.

He watched as the scraps fluttered and danced on the breeze until they disappeared around the corner. This was it. He was washed up and no longer creating anything he was happy with.

His dreams of being the next Rembrandt or Monet were going to be shelved along with all the art books he poured over as an art history major in college.

Ben slowly walked to the door and with a final despairing look backwards, he closed the door on his dreams.

*********

Those discarded scraps weren't just mindlessly floating with no where to go. They had a final destination. As if by magic
they were being pulled in a definite direction towards an empty alleyway. At the end of that alley way was an abandoned mural painted on a cracked and crumbling brick wall.
It was faded with age and neglect.

It depicted nine life size women that were either dancing , singing, or playing musical instruments. One held a lyre while another held a theatrical mask.

These were the nine Muses. All but forgotten to myth and time, the nine Muses were in Greek mythology the source of inspiration and creativity.

They had visited all the great masters. Michelangelo, Mozart, Rembrandt, Beethoven to name just a few.

Then , as if it was enchanted, a graceful hand materialized out of the decaying wall, followed by an elegant foot.  A exquisite woman stepped gracefully out of the mural then turned and beckoned her sisters to step down.

The mural had come to life. The nine sisters began dancing and spinning to music only they could hear. Then one by one they turned in to a blur as they were called back home to Olympus and to the waiting arms of their father Zeus and their mother Mnemosyne.

All but one.

Rey, as the youngest and too spontaneous for her own good, felt the irresistible urge to stay. She didn't care that she was defiant and rebellious. Her parents would understand.... She hoped.

She knew there was more for her to do here on earth. A certain someone was needing her desperately and she would always come when she felt the tingle in her heart.

*****

Ben couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned then finally gave up on a restful nights slumber.

Something kept nagging at him in the back of his brain, an itch to do something .....he wasn't sure but he wouldn't suppress the urge to be creative, even if it felt redundant.
He grab his camera and head out to the beach.

Maybe the clean , crisp pre- dawn air would soothe his troubled soul. The cool breeze off the water and the smell of the brine always put him in a good mood.

He was fairly successful at freelance photography . His photos of the ocean at sunrise had even sold a few copies. Ben knew that he owed the gallery he worked at a new photo that was better than the last one. He resented having to force his creativity to earn a paycheck but a guy's gotta eat.

Perhaps the camera lens would improve the outlook on his life.

He set up the tripod and adjusted the viewfinder, then waited for the magical moment that the sun would peek out from behind the horizon and set the ocean waves to sparkle like glittering diamonds.

Deep Indigo and violet were artfully replaced with pinkish salmon. It was glorious.

Then , just as the suns rays created a burst of golden light a young girl jumped into the frame. She was bathed in a halo of that golden light which caused her to look like an ethereal angel.

What the Hell?

Ben gasped as he focused on the girl turned divine messenger and nearly knocked over his expensive camera.

Where did she come from? He didn't hear anyone approaching. He thought he was alone on the beach.

"Hello Ben...." Came the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. But then to his disappointment she was gone. She had disappeared into thin air.
Was she just a figment of his wild imagination? Was he so desperate that he hallucinated a ravishingly stunning woman that actually said his name?

He knew he was lonely and a 'dried up Has Been' but never had he imagined a situation like this. And damn, where did she disappear to ?  He wanted to talk to her but she was gone.

The rest of the photo session was ruined for him. He could have used her in more frames. He wasn't normally a portrait photographer but she would have made a lovely addition to his sunrise.

Ben went back to his apartment and looked more carefully at the elusive girl in the photo and felt something stir in his heart.

    She was breathtaking.  And it was not just skin deep.

    He could tell by her dark brown eyes that felt like she was delving into his soul and the tilt of her mouth that she was special.  A rare and unique young woman.

    Who ever she was , he'd find her . And when he did ..... the possibilities were endless.