A Library of Short Stories

Describing Flare

I wrote this for another Creative Writing that was about describing a person/place. This character isn't based off of anyone, so it's just someone I created. I hope you all enjoy!

I stepped into the studio, holding a bag of Chinese takeout and a bag of writing materials. In the larger space, there was art supplies scattered around the room. An antique oak table sat against the left wall, crafted by a friend two years ago. The table had paints of all sorts of colors staining it and a variety of paint bottles covering it. On the floral white walls, shelves with plants, books, pictures, crystals, candles, and smaller paintings filled them. A clock on the wall read 12:49 am, meaning that the windows showed the nighttime town. The lights were dim, but something still seemed to glow in this darkness. In the middle of the room was her.

She had wavy hair that was dyed chili red, the ponytail keeping her familiar feeling. Royal yellow eyes moved from the canvas in front of her to her paints. There was a passionate focus that burned within those eyes. She was a 5'5 Japanese woman, around the age of twenty-two. A mix of reds, greens, yellows, whites, and blacks were stuck to her skin from her painting process. The sound of her paintbrush moving skillfully on the canvas brought a sense of comfort and memories of a close friendship. She wore a raisin black tank top, dark blue jean shorts that had paints on it and were worn out, pumpkin orange socks, and jet black running shoes. A pumpkin orange and onyx black jacket was wrapped around her waist. On her right arm, a large tattoo of two tiger lilies lit ablaze was crafted by me. Her left arm was clean, for she wanted to wait and get a very meaningful tattoo there. Her left leg had a large Japanese dragon breathing fire, which tied back to her Japanese heritage and was a gift for her twentieth birthday. A lemongrass tattoo wrapped around her right ankle, showing her spiritual belief in herbs. She had other tattoos, but her attention suddenly changed, taking the attention off of describing her.

She smiled and came over to me. Her jaw still held it's masculine structure, which was the only male part of her that she was okay with. She takes the food and goes to make tea. I move to look at her art. It was a field full of poppies in a midday atmosphere. Everything was very detailed and it could capture the attention of anyone. It was peaceful, bright, and comforting. She was a spectacular artist, which I admired her for. She comes over with some tea. "This is my newest commission. An elderly woman wanted me to recapture this place for her," she said, her voice deep yet welcoming. Years of knowing her made her voice became like a magnet that drew you in. I nod and take a sip of tea. A cherry, rose, and hibiscus tea that warmed my body up. She invited me to watch her. The smile on her face has guided me ever since we became friends. And I will never regret being her friend.