Depressing shit

Painting

This was a piece I wrote for my English exam and I got 90% on it. I decided I felt like sharing the shitty thing.

I'll never forget when I heard about your work for the first time. I was...different. Alone. Shunned by others who wasted their time playing with and taunting me, even when I begged, pleaded to be left alone. It was constant. A screeching cacophony of cruel sneers and scathing comments that left me weak and desperate.

You. When I first saw your masterpiece, I was stunned. Left in awe at the beauty of your creation; a stark contrast with the mundane of everyday life. It ignited a spark within me, an insatiable need to meet the creator of such art.

Every morning, when I walked past your exhibit, it would enthral and entice me, bringing a smile that I thought long forgotten. I grew attached. One day, I saw some pathetic scum washing away the colour. An indescribable surge of anger reared its head, ripping through my sanity like a ravenous beast. I lunged.

Without your masterpiece to greet me everyday, sleep became scarce. I hadn't realised how dependant on beauty I had become and so, I was left floundering feebly in the dark. I clung to my sides, wrists locked against my ribs as I sat, hunched over, back against the wall. I bit my lip so as to keep me grounded, safe from the relentless torrent of voices threatening to drag me under.

I liked your second piece more than the first. Perhaps because of the relief I felt that I was getting a good nights sleep for the first time in weeks. It didn't take long for whispers to spread and soon, tales of your artistry were running rampant everywhere I turned. Even they were aware.

I was sat, picking at the brown buckle that adorned the cuffs of my white shirt, when I heard them. Breathy voices stopped as we all strained to pick up any information they could provide. Their words were crisp and clear, even through the thick metal door.

"Felix"

Fear practically dripped off his words. I shivered. I now had a name for the one who had captured my interest. I turned to the window to see my reflection grinning back at me, tired, haunted eyes more alive than they had been in years. The door opened and they beckoned me out, leaving the empty room behind.

It wasn't even a week later that I heard about your third creation. It was closer this time, more sporadic than the others but just as captivating. Spatters climbing, clawing up the walls, painting a beautiful - agonising - image. It has always baffled me how you portray such emotion with only one colour.

I was desperate at this point. I needed to meet you, know you, reassure myself that fighting the dark clouds of uncertainty and doubt was worth it. I snuck out. I made my own painting - though it was not nearly as magnificent as yours - and went back to bed, content in the knowledge you'd soon know of me.

Morning couldn't come fast enough. Clouds blanketed the sky, sun barely visible through their thick embrace. As I filed into the canteen, I was yanked out and battered about, words cutting and harsh. When they left, I was hugging myself, rocking backwards and forwards while mocking jeers circled around me, pecking around my mind like diseased vultures. Only the assurance that you knew who I was kept me stable.

Your final work was by far your biggest, filling hallways and covering doors. Violent and beautiful, raw, primal and oh so pure. I am grateful, honoured, relieved to have helped you. You looked ethereal, like an Angel as you stood, dripping, covered in paint; you wielded your paintbrush with such skill and precision that even now, I feel shudders of delight as I recall you.

Now, I stand here. I hope you are not disappointed.

"No please! No!"

I can't stand the thought.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No more..."

I'm scared if I am being brutally honest. Scared of what would happen if you stopped understanding me.

"Put it down! Help me!"

I am helping you! Don't you see? This way, you can remain eternal, perfect and untainted as my own masterpiece. You fall silent. I breathe out. My shoulders sag. Beautiful. Simply heavenly. You know...

Red suits you.