Random Crap By Carson

Short Story #4

                                                                                     Multicolored

      

       Her feet dragged along the pavement, and her hands were jammed into the front pocket of her dark sweater. Her face was tilted to the ground. If one could see her face, they would see her narrowed green eyes and pursed lips. The hood of her sweater concealed her light brown hair. The backpack on her shoulders looked too heavy as it kept slipping off her arm, only for her to shove it back on with a harsh huff. Keys fumbled in her hands, and she slammed open the door to her parent's house. The couple stared at their daughter in surprise as she ran upstairs, backpack and all, without a word.

 "What do you think happened to Elizabeth?" asked the women, Elizabeth's mother.

 "I am not sure, but it must have been horrid. She has never acted like this before," replied her father. Both parents looked cautiously at the stairs, where their Elizabeth had just been. Upstairs, Elizabeth slammed open another door, this time to enter her room. She threw her backpack at her desk, resulting in a small crash as the backpack hit the desk's base. Elizabeth then threw herself on her bed. She inhaled the scent of driftwood and books as she tried to sink into the bed. The driftwood was from a new candle, but the smell of books was from the numerous book shelves around the room. The deep brown of the shelves complimented the light yellow walls. Along the ceiling, dangling from the crown molding was a string of lights that filled the room with a warming glow. There was also a floral comforter on the bed that Elizabeth was lying on. The room gave off a warm and comforting feel, one that did not match Elizabeth's mood at the time. She was still laying on the bed with her hands clenched, white knuckles, and tightly shut eyes. Her breathing was strained, but she couldn't even it out. Finally, with her efforts to calm down proving futile, Elizabeth jerked herself out of bed, and walked over to her white closet. Inside was an unfinished painting. It was a painting of a girl sitting under an oak tree, reading.

      Elizabeth smiled for the first time that day. Her hand reached out to touch the painting, stopping only millimeters away. With a gentle pull, Elizabeth pulled the painting to the center of the room, grabbed a seat and her tools, and started to paint. Everything was going well. Elizabeth was almost completely calm, until she messed up on the girl's face. Franticly, Elizabeth tried to fix it with every technique she knew, but every new stroke of the brush made the image worsen. Elizabeth's jaw a clenched tightly as she pressed on, but her hands started to shake violently. First came thoughts about how fixing the painting was out of her control. Quickly after, the thoughts about how the world must really hate her came, and then came self-doubt. Maybe she really was a terrible painter; a real painter wouldn't have made that mistake. I can't even paint correctly, she thought to herself. The painting looked hideous to Elizabeth when she looked at it again, and her hand fell away. You can't do anything right, she thought once more, but that was the breaking point. Elizabeth glanced at the painting, and it was mocking her. With its soulless eyes, and ruined face, the painting spoke to her.

 "I'm you."

In one swoop, Elizabeth crashed the painting to the ground, and started stepping on it over and over. The paint splattered all over the floor, on her bare feet, and even on her pants. Again and again, she smashed what was left of what was once a painting. At one point, Elizabeth started hitting the painting on the ground with her bare hands. Her hair was free from its pony tail, her eyes lit with a fiery glow, and she found herself covered in paint. Elizabeth was heaving when she was finished, but then she fully realized what had just done. She dropped to her knees next to the ruined painting. Gone was the anger, but shock had set in. Her hands reached out to touch the painting once more, but she couldn't bring herself to look at what she had caused to happen. All of her hard work had just been destroyed by the same hands that created it. Elizabeth pulled at her hair as she paced about the room.

 "No, no, no," she muttered quickly under her breath. A defeated sigh escaped her as she cleaned up the mess she had created. It looked like a really bad piece of abstract art. Elizabeth plopped herself on the bed once more, and snuggled against a warm pillow. She was running through over what she just did in disbelief. Her eyes stayed open into the late hours of the night. Soon enough, an alarm on her phone went off, signaling that it was 11 pm. The alarm was the sound of singing birds. Elizabeth jolted up from the bed, and idea had hit her. Quickly, she grabbed any pencil that she could find, and her sketch pad, and started to sketch furiously. She was done in an hour. It was a girl with huge wings. She too has green eyes and brown hair, both the same shade as Elizabeth's. Huge white wings attached to her back surrounded her, carrying her to the sky. The girl's facial expression was content, happy even.

"I'm you," Elizabeth whispered, a smile on her face. With that, Elizabeth changed into her pajamas, and went to bed, knowing that tomorrow will always be a new day.