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worldofwordsTrying New Things, part 1 of one
Word count (Story only) 400 words
This story came out of the September croudfunding creative Jam from a prompt byysabetwordsmith and is sponsored by the magnificent book_worm5 with my utmost gratitude!
There was a trick to it, she knew, this season. She picked up her brush and began to paint. It was odd, this painting with your eyes closed, but Jasmine wanted to try it. The body she was nearing on occasion was blind, and she had often wondered what it would be like to be that way, if only for a moment in time.
She carefully felt around for the small pots she had put out, trying to remember which color she had put where. Her fingers traced leaves, red, yes, there it was, gold, that was the second pot from the right, then, and then the brown. The darker green was the last, and she had mixed a yellow (Ah yes, to her right hand) to finish it. The smock she wore protected her clothes. Long and black, it threatened to sweep the color pots off the table if she weren’t careful.
Keeping her eyes closed, she carefully drew a branch, or what she hoped was one, then picked her colors. Red, yellow, brown. Brown, green, red. Red, touches of green, browned edges. It was hard to not open her eyes to check her work, to see whether or not she was even keeping a straight line.
She would look after she was done, she promised herself, and keep her drawing, even if it looked horrid to everyone else.
Golden brown was the second color, she remembered, from her right hand. Red, golden brown, tiny bits of green just so in what she hoped was the middle, yellowing edges.
There, four leaves.
Now to open her eyes …
And laugh hysterically. Her drawing looked as if it had been drawn by some silly toddler, nothing was straight, everything was crooked, and the colors ran together as if a rainstorm had hit them. Even her smock was covered in them she realized, probably from her nervous habit of running her hands along it absently as she’d tried to figure out what colors had gone where. Touching the paint, she realized, was probably not the best idea. Still, it had been fun, and she’d probably end up doing it again.
…
That was it. “Fall rain. Colors of the coming autumn” She would hang it next to little Tamya’s pictures.
Then she would ask “So who drew which one?” and be greatly amused when they would say that the child drew both: she would know better. Oh, she was going to have so much fun…
Paypal, the faster, easier way to pay online!
Word count (Story only) 400 words
This story came out of the September croudfunding creative Jam from a prompt by
ysabetwordsmith and is sponsored by the magnificent book_worm5 with my utmost gratitude!There was a trick to it, she knew, this season. She picked up her brush and began to paint. It was odd, this painting with your eyes closed, but Jasmine wanted to try it. The body she was nearing on occasion was blind, and she had often wondered what it would be like to be that way, if only for a moment in time.
She carefully felt around for the small pots she had put out, trying to remember which color she had put where. Her fingers traced leaves, red, yes, there it was, gold, that was the second pot from the right, then, and then the brown. The darker green was the last, and she had mixed a yellow (Ah yes, to her right hand) to finish it. The smock she wore protected her clothes. Long and black, it threatened to sweep the color pots off the table if she weren’t careful.
Keeping her eyes closed, she carefully drew a branch, or what she hoped was one, then picked her colors. Red, yellow, brown. Brown, green, red. Red, touches of green, browned edges. It was hard to not open her eyes to check her work, to see whether or not she was even keeping a straight line.
She would look after she was done, she promised herself, and keep her drawing, even if it looked horrid to everyone else.
Golden brown was the second color, she remembered, from her right hand. Red, golden brown, tiny bits of green just so in what she hoped was the middle, yellowing edges.
There, four leaves.
Now to open her eyes …
And laugh hysterically. Her drawing looked as if it had been drawn by some silly toddler, nothing was straight, everything was crooked, and the colors ran together as if a rainstorm had hit them. Even her smock was covered in them she realized, probably from her nervous habit of running her hands along it absently as she’d tried to figure out what colors had gone where. Touching the paint, she realized, was probably not the best idea. Still, it had been fun, and she’d probably end up doing it again.
…
That was it. “Fall rain. Colors of the coming autumn” She would hang it next to little Tamya’s pictures.
Then she would ask “So who drew which one?” and be greatly amused when they would say that the child drew both: she would know better. Oh, she was going to have so much fun…
Paypal, the faster, easier way to pay online!
