If anyone wants to read my “Short story” for class that I came up with super fucking last minute Imma post it here.

Keep in mind that it was suppose to be between 500 and 700 words and its over 1000 here. Im kind of mad because I had to scrap the last one because of the word limit so this isn’t nearly as good. But yeah, tell me what you think.

The Person Painter

In a small, intimate town rumors have a tendency to mercilessly spread, tearing at the victim with the ferocity of a starving lioness. Joshua’s family was no exception to the rule. They had been forced to move to this town on doctor’s orders due to his mother’s illness. Other then that one factor, they in no way belonged there. In fact, Joshua felt very similar to how the bible described lepers, sick and therefore outcast. The only thing he wanted was to move back to the city.

When he and his family had lived in the city his mother was a fabulous painter. She drew inspiration from every person to cross her path. There wasn’t a single moment where her face wouldn’t light up with inspiration, an inspiration that would turn the dingy grey of city walls into gorgeous works of art. Each work spoke solely on the color and brightness of each individual who ritually walked its streets, giving the city its general charm and character. Joshua missed those moments now, because here in this rural farm town his mother almost seemed to get worse due to lack of inspiration.

He hated how every night he would come home from school to see his mother staring blankly at a canvas with only a brush stroke or two to show for her day’s work. He would gently call to her and would watch in heartbreak as she turned her face to him only to show puffy red eyes showing just how much she had cried that day. It only hurt him more when she put on an empty smile and tried to be the bright and cheerful woman that once lived in the city who still had a grip on her heart.

In only a few short months Joshua and his father watch the once lively and ever creative artist dwindle into nothing but a shell. She barely ate and would only sit in front of a blank canvas. Some times, late at night Joshua would creep out of his bedroom to see his mother crying in front of the art that hung on the walls depicting beautiful abstract scenes inspired by passer-byers of a living breathing city. For Joshua, it was the moment his soul truly shattered.

In this moment he decided he would be an artist, if not for himself, then for the preservation of a beautiful style created by the most open minded and beautiful woman he had ever known. He would force his mothers memory to live on long after her lungs gave out. He faced merciless teasing at school but he bore a straight and strong face remembering the reassurance his mother once gave him after he had come home crying from school when he was young. “Never blame the children that pick on you, they are just doing what they were taught. Their parents ruined their future by convincing them to hate the different and punish the new. You were taught to be the different and new. The different and the new are what change the world.” In every moment he was bullied, it just drove him forward.

Joshua applied to as many art colleges as he possibly could and rejoiced when his school of choice sent him an acceptance letter. Running into his mothers bedroom with the largest smile he had ever had on his face he loudly proclaimed “They let me in!”

His mothers face was now ashen and hollow, surrounded by a pile of unkempt, bright red curls, truly the face of death. Though, in that moment, the beautiful face that Joshua remembered from when he was a child lit up. It was almost as if seeing the past and it gave him hope.

“I’m so proud of you”, she whispered, pale lips curved into a wide smile showing all her brilliantly white teeth. “You’ll get to move back to the city too! I’m so jealous. I’m sure it will inspire millions of paintings.”

“Mom, maybe you could move back with me for a month, just one more month before I actually had to start classes”, he almost begged, knowing that there was only a few more precious months left with his mother. The only thing he wanted for her was to see her true smile come back.

With that his mother smiled and nodded gently. “I would like that”, she had cooed. “Maybe, if I’m lucky, I could make one more piece before I left…” Joshua grew sad as her sentence trailed off into the inferred but didn’t let it bring him down. The next few months would be the best months of his and his mother’s lives, he was sure of it.

The months passed and Joshua, his father, and his mother all moved into a small apartment in the same city as his college. Joshua was pleased to see that though his mother’s physical condition did not change, she was smiling a lot more and even started painting.

One chilly mid September when the wind was blowing just hard enough through the rows of buildings that it made the most lovely whistling noise, Joshua came home to his father, staring at an easel with an almost finished painting. It was quite literally the most beautiful piece of art Joshua’s mother had ever created. His father turned to him with tears in his eyes and Joshua didn’t even have to be told.

Handing him a sealed letter, his father only said this, “She insisted you have this note on her last breath”, before turning away and walking back into his bedroom.

Joshua opened the note and tears ran rivers down his face. “Dear Joshua”, he read, “I am writing this now with the permission of the angel that has come to get me. I want you to know that I love you and every thing you do. You are the perfect son and a wonderful artist. I just wanted you to know that from this point forward, it’s your turn to make beauty from the people you see around you. Take the unfinished painting on the easel and make it something beautiful, but remember, make it yours. You are unique, you are special and you are new. Love, Mom.”

Closing the letter and tenderly slipping it back into the envelope Joshua took a strong, shaky breath. Moving toward the easel with determination he took up the brush, still wet with paint and began his masterpiece.