Short Stories

Raw Art

When you lose something that you count as valuable, it is terrible. Catalina Demory didn't just lose her most prized possessions but was born deaf. Never could she hear the sound of the beach waves, or the sound of the morning birds chirping but she was stuck in a loud world but could only hear silence. A regular person she thought was supposed to have all five of the senses but in the unfortunate reality, the world had thought something else for her. One thing made up for that loss, and it was her artistic ability, the one thing she could do to express all her emotions that she had felt. The feeling of her paintbrush skimming the canvas and the plain white surface changing as it becomes invaded with colour. She had a portfolio with all her drawings and painting she had made when she was a child, and drawings from now. Some of her painted creations she had loved the most hung on her walls. 

It was hard to live a normal life when everyone thought she was different. She was gorgeous, flawless skin, slim figure, dirty blonde hair, but what really made her look outstanding was her ice blue eyes. That meant nothing to people, when they tried to speak to her. She had tried to read people's lips so that she could have some sort of conversation, but sometimes it was too fast for her to differentiate the words. People got tired of trying to fit her pace, so eventually those people had left. She never thought things would get brighter at that point.

Her parents didn't go without realizing the lack of social interaction Catalina was having with other people. So, they took it upon themselves to put her in a group with common deaf people like her. The age variety was very large, and not many people were near her age. When sitting in a circle with all the other people, made her realize that she was different and that she wouldn't be able to change. Every Monday and Friday after school, She would go to the 'get togethers'.

There wouldn't be one second where in her head she hadn't wanted to leave and get back to her paintings. She thought it would be better painting where she could express her emotions better there, then going to some group circle discussing their problems through sign language.

After her meeting that day, she immediately went to her room to where it looked like an explosion of colours and paintings. Looking at her blank canvas at the corner of her room, she made her way. Plopping herself on the wooden stool and picking up the paint brush that was already set and placed on the small table beside her. Dipping it into the watercolor paint, she starts making her next piece.

It might have sounded crazy to some people but she thought that art was her only comfort zone. There were times in her life where her heart felt like it was aching, and was not having the best day. Painting in dark colours and the shapes slowly forming, tears made their way to her eyes. At those times she made deep meanings into those paintings, and those paintings she would keep them hidden somewhere no one would look.

She had a facade built to cover up externally how she was feeling but always kept it internally in her head. After hiding her beloved painting, she went downstairs to where she found her parents sitting down at the kitchen table sipping on a glass of wine. Her mom looked happy as her mouth flew open. She wondered how the sound of her mother's laugh sounded, but she wondered a lot of things. She thought by now how her own voice had sounded like, was she too loud, or quiet or if she was pronouncing words right. It was a hard time trying to learn, an obstacle that was eventually overcome but there was no point in her voice when she couldn't ever hear it.

She made it to the kitchen table which she sat herself down, getting the attention of her parents. They started forming words in sign language asking about her day, and the same reply had been the same 'I'm fine'. The mother left the table leaving it to be just her father. He gave her a bright smile, and hadn't bothered to start up a conversation. When my mother came back she had a lasagne in her hands, placing it in the middle of the table. They dined, and conversation meals were kept short.

After the meal they all sat in the family room, as the fireplace was open and lit up as they were in the cold winter months. Sitting on the couch, as a movie had been played, she slowly started dozing off till she fell asleep.

Waking up suddenly from the burst of heat she was feeling, getting back from her lucid state. She became fully aware of her surroundings and smoke filled her nose. Her mother was tapping her viciously and she saw what had happened. The once tamed fire, was now catching fire to the curtains and hardwood floor. Her father was trying to get a blanket to smother the fire but it was spreading too fast. The room soon became too hot to stay in so they started evacuating.

Her mom was leading me outside of the house but she couldn't leave her paintings behind. They were the only things left that really mattered to her. Getting a few steps up the stairs she's stopped when a hand grabs onto her wrist pulling her back. Turning around to find her mother stopping her from going to her room, dragging her to the front of the house.

Catalina tried with all her might to get rid of her mother's grasp but was held in a grip she couldn't release herself from, she felt helpless. She felt incomplete, those paintings made her whole and wasn't something that could be replaced. Tears formed in her eyes, begging to be let go of so that she could save her precious art.

The art she put her heart and passion into for a majority of her life. Every vulnerable moment was captured in each painting she had done. With only one step left till they reached the front door, the mother had victory and got them out of the house. Taking them as far away from the house as possible. Just for one second, her mother let go of her hand so that she could call 9-1-1 and in that one second to spare she was running back to the burning house.

The father was coming out of the house seeing how his daughter was making her way back into their burning home. He blocked her from getting back into the house, stopping her as much as having to put half of her body on his shoulder, kicking and yelling wanting to be let go of. She had failed to get what she wanted as the father made his way with her body over to her mother.

Dropping her down, and hugging around her waist for security reasons. She starts crying louder and louder, having her arms outstretched towards the house wanting to do anything just to go back in the house. She watched as the house came to flames, and the sound of sirens going off in the distance.She fell on her knees, sobbing her eyes out, as she dug her nails into the grass.

In her mind, she had just lost everything.