09-11-2019, 03:48 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby gratefully accepted the paints from the vibrant snow leopard, but shook his head at the offer of the garish glitter glue. "Ah, I’ll pass on the glue this time. Thank you for the offer, though." Having said this, he took the paints and moved to an easel, carefully unscrewing the lids and setting them out neatly in front of him.
Now, what to paint? There seemed to be an infinite amount of possibilities. He could paint the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth, a cloud, a feather, a leaf, or anything in between them. The prospect was daunting to say the least. Still, he closed his eyes and thought hard, and an idea came to him.
Using the lids to the jars of paints, he created various mixtures of paints. Different combinations of green, blue, and white gave him grass, and he used this to paint a big hill, the curve of it taking up the bottom half of the canvas. Blue and white made the sky, and a white splotch on top made a cloud. He worked wordlessly, even as conversation continued around and over him. On top of the hill, brown made a handsome sapling, and another shade of green made its leaves. A small black triangle in the boughs of the sapling was a witch’s hat, waving lazily in invisible wind.
Sitting back on his haunches, Selby studied his work. It likely wouldn’t win any awards, now or anytime, but he felt a little proud of it in any case. He hadn’t been to his sister’s resting place since she’d been buried, both because he wasn’t ready to and because he was simply too busy. Still, the reminder that this sacred hill was waiting for him was oddly comforting, and creating the piece had been cathartic. He was glad that he had taken the moment to do it.
Now, what to paint? There seemed to be an infinite amount of possibilities. He could paint the sun, the moon, the stars, the earth, a cloud, a feather, a leaf, or anything in between them. The prospect was daunting to say the least. Still, he closed his eyes and thought hard, and an idea came to him.
Using the lids to the jars of paints, he created various mixtures of paints. Different combinations of green, blue, and white gave him grass, and he used this to paint a big hill, the curve of it taking up the bottom half of the canvas. Blue and white made the sky, and a white splotch on top made a cloud. He worked wordlessly, even as conversation continued around and over him. On top of the hill, brown made a handsome sapling, and another shade of green made its leaves. A small black triangle in the boughs of the sapling was a witch’s hat, waving lazily in invisible wind.
Sitting back on his haunches, Selby studied his work. It likely wouldn’t win any awards, now or anytime, but he felt a little proud of it in any case. He hadn’t been to his sister’s resting place since she’d been buried, both because he wasn’t ready to and because he was simply too busy. Still, the reminder that this sacred hill was waiting for him was oddly comforting, and creating the piece had been cathartic. He was glad that he had taken the moment to do it.