One Shot Stories

XXXV ~ All Things Bright

My paint brush swipes across the blank canvas. One thick stroke of black paint. I paint the rest black and step back, cleaning my brush and letting the first base dry. Someone moves behind me.

"Maybe you shouldn't always start with a black canvas." Says a deep, husky voice in my ear.

I jump and turn, splattering paint on the man who stands behind me. My art teacher. My hot art teach is more like it. He looks down at his shirt. I cover my mouth, muffling a gasp.

"Sorry, Mr. McKenna." I say, handing him a paper towel.

He shakes his head, taking off the button up, leaving him in a white T-shirt.

"It's fine, Ms. Heartly." He says, dropping his shirt on the table beside my easel.

I wince and turn back, cleaning the brush.

"As I was saying," He begins, staring at the black canvas. "You shouldn't always have a black background. As an artist, you need to shake things up a bit."

Staring at my very young teacher, I shake my head. Mr. McKenna cocks his head to the side, making brown hair fall into his dark, stormy eyes.

"Why not, Ms. Heartly?" He inquires.

I take a breath and turn back to the now dry canvas.

"You say to paint what's on your mind," Behind me, he shuffles, acknowledging my statement. "Well, everything in my mind is dark. Nothing there is bright."

I mentally slap myself. Good job, Cyrus, you just outlined your outside life to your art teacher! He gazes at me steadily.

"Well, I think this weekend you should go out to the park or maybe do something fun. Get rid of everything bad. COme Monday, I'd like to see a bright canvas."

I nod. He smiles a dazzling smile and goes to leave. Last second, he turns around.

"I don't have a doubt in mind about you, Ms. Heartly." With that, he walks away to help another student.

I watch as the pretty blonde shoots him a smile and try to impress him with her obviously fake chest. Mr. McKenna winces but helps the love struck girl anyways. Good on him. I sigh and turn back to my canvas and begin to paint in white. Black and white, it's all I ever am.

~

I wake up Saturday morning and immediately think about what Mr. McKenna said. Go rid of everything bad. Rubbing my eyes, I get up and get dressed. Campus park, here I come.

~

The campus park thrives on Saturdays. Kids sit in groups gossiping and athletes run around, throwing a variety of balls and discs. I wrap my coat tighter around me and continue down the path. Looking around, I notice all the little things. Only some leaves are turning into the desired fall colors, the clouds move faster than usual, and that my art teacher is suddenly standing in front of me.

I take a startled step back. Mr. McKenna grins at me.

"I thought I'd find you here." He says cheerfully.
"I thought you were another student." I mumble.

He chuckles.

''So it seems," He murmurs as he takes in my attire. "Anyways, how is your inspiration coming?"

I shrug and look around.

"Same as usual." I say.

Mr. McKenna frowns.

"Well that's not good." He says.

I laugh without humor.

"It's normal.''

His frown deepens. As he opens his mouth to say something, his phone rings. He hums and fishes it out of his back pocket.

"It seems I have to take this. Nice talk, Ms. Heartly. The best of luck to you." He accepts the call and walks past me.j

Staring after his tall frame, watching the early October breeze make his maroon scarf fluter. An idea pops into my head. I smile and head home. Time to start on sketches.

~

Come Monday, I got to class early and started gathering all of the paints I'll need. Usually, if I got to class late, it was fine because I only used two colors. Black and white. But, not today. Today, I gather various paints, ranging from maroon to gray. More than I'm used to.

Mr. McKenna watches me with curiosity from his post at his desk. His eyes follow me everywhere I go. To get different brushes, more paints, pencils, and finally my sketches of what I'm painting. Other art students begin to file in as I begin painting. Everything begins to fade into it just being me and the canvas.

~

Long after class ends, I'm still there, painting away. Mr. McKenna still sits at his desk, watching my brushes fly across the canvas. Almost done. Finally, with the final stroke of the stormy gray clouds that I saw that day, I step back.

Noticing that I stopped my furious painting, Mr. McKenna stands and comes over to see what I've done. He doesn't speak. He only stares.

"That's me." He says breathlessly.

Yes. It is him. Him walking away from me, leaving me to my thoughts. His phone to his ear as he gazes up at the storm clouds. His scarf fluttering and leaves tumbling. All with the most detail you could add with out going overboard like most students did. I captured it perfectly.

"You were on my mind." Is all I say.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat.

"And it's seems you're always on mine." He says quietly.

Shocked, I turn to face him. He stares at me. His already dark eyes darker than before.

"Mr. McKenna."

He clears his throats and shakes his head. Gesturing to my piece of art, a smile passes over his face. I still can't help but notice that his eyes are still dark with some emotion. Dark with lust.

"It's a beautiful piece of work, Ms. Heartly," Beautiful piece of art like yourself? "Good job."

I smile at him. Mr. McKenna returns that dazzling smile that makes my inside melt.

"Now, answer me this, Ms. Heartly. Did you find yourself?"

That was his motive for this? Nonetheless, I suddenly don't feel like painting with just black and white anymore. Compared to what I just did, painting those were boring and only took twenty minutes. Tops. I look back up at Mr. McKenna.

"Yes," I start, noticing another smile begin to bless his handsome features. "I think I have."

•••

While writing this, I was like, what if I turned this into an actual story? You know, a student/teacher romance? Hm, maybe. I'll ask my fellow writing friends. Anyways, I think I might tie off this story at chapter fifty. I think that's a good number to stop at.