Rediscovered

3. Clove

Snap

Great, another one broken, Clove thought, as she tossed her broken pencil into a pile of already broken ones. The pencil made a small clink and echoed across the empty art room.

Clove sighed as she got up from her stool to get her 5th pencil, her white vans making small thuds as she walked across the barren room. Clove was currently working on a shadow painting of a rose. Shadow paintings were made by rubbing the side of a pencil onto a canvas and then smudging the powder with her fingers to create pictures. And being the clutz she was, that meant alot of broken pencils.

Grabbing a new sharpened pencil, Clove went back to shadowing her 7th petal, making sure to be careful of small details, and glimmers of the rose. It was lonely, sure, but Clove liked it that way. The silence was calming to her, allowing her to think and actually focus on her work. There was art class on some days, but the kids she worked with were so loud and disturbing, that she couldn't think at all. So she worked on her projects at 5 in the morning while there was nobody around in the art room.

Clove sighed again, this time because the light brown strands of her hair was blocking her view. She had wanted to get her long hair cut short if it meant that her art would be better, but she knew that she would look absolutely horrible with short hair. Which meant that she would be tying her hair while drawing. She had been told that her hair tied up was pretty, but Clove knew that they were lying. She was much more confident with her hair down, but art decided to say no.

She got up from her stool to stretch, leaning left to right, and went up to the mirror. She had light brown hair, light skin and silver-brown eyes. She was nothing special but why did she feel as if she was different? She knew she was something else. She wondered, was it those stories her grandmother would read when she was little? Something about their family line, how there were a few people in her family that were extraordinary? Clove felt something more, but knew that she was close to nothing.

Finally getting back on track, Clove finalized her painting by layering the front of the canvas with clear paint, giving the impression that the rose was in glass. It was a very beautiful image, with each petal having gradient shades of black and white. Feeling accomplished, Clove released a small whoop in success, a grin etched across her face. She hoped that the paint would dry quickly so that she could post the canvas to the gallery.

Just then, Clove heard a small clink. It was barley audible but it was there. It was as if someone came into the room and tapped an empty wine bottle. 

Clink. Clink. Clink. 

What was that? She thought. Was there a drip in the room? She looked around but everything looked dry; not a drop of water anywhere. Weird, where was that sound coming from. Cloves' senses told her that something was off. There was a different presence in the room. No, multiple presences in the room.

"Hello? Who's there?" Clove called. She was scared but she knew that she would have to kick the person in the room out. She assumed that they were here to copy her work for the art gallery, and she definitely couldn't let that happen. Raising a broken pencil from the stack of the unfortunate, Clove pointed the broken end of it to every direction. Her eyebrows were creasing and frown appeared on her face.

"Where are you? I can feel that you're here." Her frowned deepened as the sound of clinking grew, becoming more loud and clear. "Hey, stop it with the clinking. You've already made your presence known. Just show yourself." Her expression turned shocked when the clinking noise stopped immediately. She didn't expect the person to actually listen to her.

"Ok now.. where are you? It's getting annoying." Clove said, feeling a bit frustrated that the person kept their identity a secret. She knew that if the person was going to copy her work, she would be able to find their name in the gallery when they would post it.