Run From the Demons 2 (Sequel)

Chapter Forty Three

No One's P.O.V

It was just a normal Tuesday afternoon for Norman Barret.

He sat on the cold, damp ground, leaning against the brick wall of the building behind him. He shivered in his place, holding up the piece of cardboard with the words 'NEED FOOD' painted in thick black letters. Norman didn't have a proper home. He hadn't had one for a long time now. He lived on the streets, always finding a new place to fall asleep. He was lucky enough to get a bit of change every once in a while. Whenever he did, he was thankful and used it the best he could.

He would buy a small biscuit from the coffee shop across the street. Well, he would try.

The lady who owned the shop always brought him something to eat and drink in the afternoon, feeling bad for the poor soul. She would try and convince him to come into the shop or to come to her place and stay the night, but he always refused, not wanting to be a burden. Mrs. Matherson was really too kind.

But besides Mrs. Matherson's daily delivery of a baked good and a drink, he wouldn't get much food. Any money that he did get he would instead find some place that sold food for cheap prices and he would buy the cheapest food item or cheapest drink there. He was usually only able to afford a bottle of water or a biscuit of some sort.

In front of Norman stood an empty styrofoam cup that he had once held the warm hot chocolate he was lucky enough to buy from the Starbucks a couple blocks away. That was three days ago. He now sat quietly on the ground, praying that someone would be kind enough to give him the smallest bit of change. A dime, a nickle, anything would make him happy. Any money he received would be helpful in the future.

Norman looked up at the darkening sky. The orange tints in the blue reminded him of his mother. Her flaming red hair, her sky blue eyes. When he was a child she would always take him up to the roof to watch the sunset. She would point out the different colors and how they meshed together so well. He remembered the smile on her face as she would look up at the sky in pure admiration. He remembered the way she would then look down at him, pure adoration shining in her eyes when she saw him smiling up at the sky.

'The sky is a work of art,' she would say softly as the orange would slowly dominate the blue. 'The way the colors collide with one another is just incredible. I've always admired sunsets because of this,' she would then smile to herself. 'I remember how sometimes, my father would take me out to the field behind our house when the sun would begin to set. And he would draw. He would just draw scenes where the sun was setting. He even drew pictures of me running around the field. He was truly a great artist.' 

'One day I'm gonna paint the sun setting, mum,' he would sometimes say. His mother would look over at him and smile.

'Will you now?'

'Yeah. One day I'm gonna just sit out in a field and paint the sun setting, just like grandpa did. I wanna be an artist just like him.'

And that was the reason he was now homeless. He had spent so much of his time painting that he never found a job. He never had a steady relationship and would spend all his extra money on art supplies. Norman truly was a great artist, but he just never got the chance to show his art to the world.

And now here he was. Homeless. His mother was dead. His father didn't care. His grandparents lived all the way in Russia and couldn't afford to buy him a plane ticket. He had no friends as he had spent most of his free time drawing and painting.

What a stupid thing to do.

Norman still loved art with a burning passion, but he just gave up on it. He had no money to buy what he needed, he had no inspiration anymore. No motivation. So why bother?