The last time Hyacinth dabbled with a canvass and a paintbrush echoed back in her 12th year. In comparison to her peers' outputs which were light, uncomplicated and optimistic, hers were out of this world-almost like cursed from beyond and under. Her classmates were getting a litany of A+ and A's for their art pieces. And unluckily, Hyacinth kept on collecting a couple of Cs and C-.
Why? Her Art teacher often asked Hyacinth in between breaks. "Why do you paint such gory details?".
True enough, Hyacinth leaned on the influences of Dante's Inferno, the Holocaust, the Apocalypse and what-have-you. Her teacher, called Ms Pearly, commended Hyacinth's talent for being able to integrate the light with the darkness and twist the effect in a convoluted way. But if she were graded for commercial success, Hyacinth's paintings would sell less and would attract the sick and the perverted kind.
And now as a grown woman, Hyacinth decided to pay a visit to Ms Pearly. To her knowledge, Ms Pearly has already resigned from their grade school compound and has opted to hold private art tutorials in her neighborhood.
Ms Pearly rose from her rocking chair, and rushed to welcome her former, unreadable pupil Hyacinth.
"Well, look at you! What brought you here young lady?" Ms Pearly stretched out her loving hands.
"I miss painting I guess."
"I heard from the town gossip you just arrived from Jakarta. Good thing, do you know how sick your father is?", Ms Pearly asked in a regular tone.
"Ms Pearly, I may not be long here in Wellington. But during my brief stay, I'd like you to mentor me again in my paintings."
"Well, but of course. I'm sure over the years, your taste has improved."
Hyacinth chortled. "I haven't painted for years Miss. This time, there's a real purpose why I'm doing it again. A sort of self-expression."
"An outlet you mean."
"Why don't we start right now?"
"Right now?". Hyacinth was nervous for a while.
Ms Pearly brought out a clean canvass and handed it out to Hyacinth. She also gave her visitor the required art paraphernalia she needed.
"By the way, are you aware of my rate per hour?" Ms Pearly kidded Hyacinth. But she was kind of serious in a way. Reports had reached her that Hyacinth has a very profitable career in Jakarta.
Hyacinth chortled once more. "Money is not a problem Miss. Now what do I do with the easel again?".
YOU ARE READING
Her Yellow Swimsuit
General FictionFor almost two decades, Hyacinth has avoided the basement of her ancestral home like a plague. That blackened and quarantined place has brought prolonged nightmares, identity crisis and undefined confusion to Hyacinth. Until one day when she was lef...
