His Vision of Art

Paper

Uriah:

I erased my mistake, accidentally ripping the paper. I rip it off all together, starting over again.
I can feel eyes glancing at me, and Fall getting closer to my easel.
I glance at the model, and I admit she's beautiful, but I've never trained myself to ever draw a female.
She's sitting completely still, her eyes closed with a secret content smile. Her held is tilted, her hair falling across her shoulder, and her arms are wrapped around each other with her legs crossed.
I pull my pencil away, and I've drawn a man in her place, his short hair falling across his closed eyes, his lean body crossed like hers.
My hands are shaking, partly because I know I'm already disobeying class instructions, but also because when I lean back and really look...I've based my sketch on Fall himself.
You can't tell because it's just a sketch, but add copper hair and darken the lashes, and you have a man that represents him.

Fall nods in appreciation at the man next to me, his drawing flawless...
"Good work, Sam" he says clapping him on the back.

The man smirks, the others trying to get a peek to see his creation.
I stiffen, adding a bit of shading around the edges, careful to make my drawing look less like him, and soon enough I can feel Fall behind me, his eyes boring down on me.
I lean back, clenching my hands around my pencil, my knuckles white and aching to snap the tool in half.

Fall raises a hand to run along his chin, and I nervously steal a glance at him.
"What's this?" He asks, almost coldly --almost harsh.

I don't answer, not knowing if I actually should.

"Why aren't you drawing what you're supposed to?" Fall asks, and he leans over, ripping my paper off the easel and taking a look at it.

Everyone stops drawing, looking at Fall, looking at my work.

Fall glances down at me. "Well?"

I slowly lift my eyes up to his, "I--I can't draw women..."

"I see..." he says lowering the drawing and really looking at me. "What's your name?"

I pause, already stressed that everyone is literally devoted to stare to me.
I felt humiliated.

"Uriah...Uriah West." I mumble.

"Well, Uriah" Fall says looking back at my "I am teaching a class where there are artists. Artists should be able to draw anything they set their mind to. Especially something as simple as this." He says coldly.

Art is having the passion and devotion to something. Something inspired you. Why not focus on that?

I press my lips together, trying to hold back the tears that are forming around my eyes.

"I can't." I manage, and my voice wobbles slightly.

"Then I don't need you in my class." He says back smoothly, and right there and then my paper is being ripped in half.

I flinch, but keep my eyes to the floor until the ripping sounds have deceased.
The pieces of paper flutter to the floor, and I finally brace myself for what's coming.

"Get out. You can return when you've learned how to properly draw."

I stand up, the rejection setting in, the failure washing through me.
I always disappoint others.
I take my bag, clenching my pencil, stand up, and slowly make my way out the door. I can feel everyone's eyes following me, even the model, and my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
I don't bothering looking back -- do I even bother to come back?!
I open the door and it creaks open, then I take the one step needed to leave this room, and shut the door quietly.