Day and Night

II. ❝ Gothic art ❞

K I E R A

Once I reached Everose High, I hurried over to my locker to grab a few things for the morning classes. There were several students still lingering in the hallway for now.

"Hi, Kea."

"Hey there, Cass." I closed my locker door shut just to see my dear friend, Cassiopeia Winters, slumped on her locker beside me.

"Jetlag?" She exhaled heavily, fixating her eyes on a particular section of my face.

"Oh no," I groaned. "Not you too. I've gotten the same reaction from Augustus already. Sad though, he beat you to that this morning."

"Mhmm." She shrugged, swiping away a lock of gorgeous chocolate cinnamon hair from her face.

That's a common Cassiopeia response for you.

"Trouble with the little devil again?" I arched an eyebrow at her deep breaths.

"Nightmare, you mean." She frowned at my nickname for her 3-year old brother, Orion.

Cassiopeia here is your typical A-grade good girl who only says a few words, which all sounds like riddles or just plain wisdom to me if you ask, and talks only if she has to. That makes me the more talkative one in our friendship.

"Hmm, okay. Still the same thing." I cocked my head at her. "So what happened this morning?" She heaved a sigh.

"This morning I woke up to Mum and Dad yelling. I came down to find Mom chasing my half-naked brother around the house and Dad trying to put Ares on a leash." Ares is her family's Rottweiler. "Apparently the pet door was left opened overnight, so the beast trampled over our entire garden, including Mum's flower patch."

I raised an incredulous eyebrow at her.

"How could that have happened?" She shrugged her shoulders indifferently, leaving me with burning curiousity and wonder.

I could never get used to the fact that she came from a noisy family, from meeting them face-to-face and hearing numerous crazy stories about their chaotic household. And her stories have never failed to shock or surprise me in either way.

It often left me wondering how a silent person like her managed to grow up over the years, with chaos constantly brewing around her.

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Your job today is to paint colours onto the canvas. Anything, so as long as there is colour.

My eyes faced the blank white canvas on the easel in front of me, trying to draw out any form of inspiration that could be possibly in my cloudy mind right now. Everyone around me was already buried in their artwork, the flicking of to-and-fro brushes on canvas filling the silent air.

You shouldn't have woken up late this morning, Kiera. Then you would have had your breakfast.

I groaned. My stomach lowly grumbled in agreement.

Just as a vague thought had crossed my mind and I was picking up my sad paintbrush from the paint jar, the door slammed open.

An unfamiliar boy dressed in black, with only a dash of white against a leather jacket and rugged jeans, stormed in. He seemed to be in a foul mood, or perhaps it was just the dark aura he carried with him.

A few people paused in their work to peer over the edges of their easels at the latecomer.

"Hi, dear. Are you lost?" Ms. Noella still beamed at him, completely oblivious to the gloomy aura he exuded.

He muttered something incomprehensible to our teacher. I caught Ms. Noella's wide eyes in recognition and her soft murmurs to the stranger.

Before I knew it, he had dumped his bag on the side of an easel and occupied the seat beside mine. He was a mere streak of darkness in the bright room, like a cloudless night seeping through a curtain. Everyone resumed back to their artwork, and I myself quickly did the same.

Time flew past quickly to my relief.

Approximately fifteen minutes before the end of class, Ms. Noella started going around the class. I could hear the clacking of her heels against the polished wooden floors as she began surveying all our artworks.

"Kiera dear, yours is positively colourful if I must say so." I flashed Ms. Noella a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.

She was too kind. My artwork today resembled more like the aftermaths of a tornado.

She peered over at the latecomer's work beside me.

"Jasper dear," Something shifted in her eyes and she frowned, a rare look for her whenever she surveyed our work. "There is simply no colour on yours."

The boy's head turned up and I caught a glimpse of his smoky silver eyes.

"Art is subjective, ma'am." His voice was low and soft. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but black, white and grey are colours too."

She smiled. "You're right, dear. But didn't I say no sketches or drawings?" He gave her a blank stare.

"Art is subjective, ma'am. Do I have to repeat myself?" His voice rose slightly but still remained soft, not letting Ms. Noella speak once. "And just for the record, I was not sketching or drawing. You have a fine day, ma'am."

The boy suddenly stood up and shrugged his bag over his shoulders before self-dismissing himself out of class. Ms. Noella was left there staring incredulously at the boy's abrupt leave, before shaking her head and continued to survey the rest of our work.

The bell rang a moment later. As I tidied up my work area and made my way towards the door, I passed by the boy's work.

I was both in shock and awe.

It was certainly lacking other colours, aside from black and white. Still, both colours did nothing to hide the haunting beauty of the stranger's artwork.

It was all inky black and white and detailed, like some gothic scene out of the famous Mexican 'Day of the Dead'. Two grinning human skulls stared back at me with hollow black eyes, which bore into mine and gave me shivers. He had etched intricate curls and spirals onto the crowns of their heads and cheekbones, making them terrifying yet beautiful at the same time.

However, I was more drawn towards the beautiful black cursive words written below the two skulls.

"Till death, we do art."

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