Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD (08/03/17)
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TITLE: Memories Redrawn 2 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Gage
08/10/17 -
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The deeper they dove into dark, she began to question her motives. What previously seemed curious about his art piece that she spotted on the free-artist web site was now very bizarre. A chill when up her spine. Every picture painted, drawn and sketched was just about the exact same! In the forefront, the same white pristine house, a beautiful window with open curtains and the scene as if peering into a room of the house. The same large old woman, overfilling a recliner, her deep creviced face with same forlorn expression. Her crooked dirty fingers grasping a bottle of beer or wine. She was always surrounded with mounds of trash, piles of things stacked to the ceiling, old books, clothes and fly-swarmed food on the floor. Creepy spiders’ webs laced the piles. She looked trapped. Eerily the same groomed little boy sat on the floor coloring. The chaos and sadness that she saw, he intensely felt mixed with acidic resentment. What originally intrigued her, now pricked her heart. with crayons.
Overwhelming grief made him pause. She had turned to tip-toe out, but stopped when he shouted, “That’s IT!”
By now they were tangled in the obstacle of his stored artwork. He pointed. She was shocked to see a beautiful stained-glass piece. The same house, but the scene was very different. He stretched one arm over the pile of dusty frames and grasped the edge of the treasure. Dim light could not subdue its brilliance as it was lifted out of its tomb.
Just as she sighed relief for her artistic find, his fingers gave out. The stained glass hit the floor and shattered. He melted to the floor, sobbing.
Unexpected compassion was overriding her fear.
Gently placing on hand on his shoulder she calmly requested, “Please, close your eyes, look inside that window and draw this again.”
Unable to maintain composure, he stuttered, “Dad’s in his recliner reading a book. The house is spic and span clean. Mom at the stove, cooking our favorites, fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She is smiling.” He smiled, a little. “I colored a picture of her and Dad that day. They liked it. Then Dad died.” Weeping, he pointed to his other artwork. “That’s me coloring, but Mom never smiled again. A fire destroyed the house and my picture. Mom died in Dad’s recliner.”
“Go back to this one.” Pointing to the shattered glass. “Tell me more. The book?”
He thought hard. Many years had passed since the stained-glass piece. He had mostly forgotten the book.
“The Bible. Dad, Mom and I would read it together every night. Dad would say, ‘No matter what happens, Sammy, God loves you and is with you, don’t you forget it.’”
Timidly she noted, “Is that what’s on your mom’s lap in those?”
He wiped his brow and surveyed his other pictures. Every single one, his mom was in that recliner. She lived in it, surrounded by Dad’s clothes, golf clubs, tools amongst the trash and half-eaten food. And yes, the book; The Bible was always on her lap. This memory seemed different now.
“I would sit right next to Mom and color. She would read the Bible and tell me the same thing that Dad did, ‘God loves you and is with you no matter what.’”
But anger and bitterness grew and the light faded. But, today remembering didn’t hurt. Though, his mom couldn’t handle losing Dad, amazingly she passed on the light and hope of God’s love Today, he felt it and believed it.
He realized that he was on the same path as Mom. This is not what he was meant to do. Mom and Dad were gone, but God was still with him. New memories flooded in. With excitement, he dusted off a blank canvas, grabbed a pencil and started to sketch. She watched talent pour out of his fingers, and a new demeanor on his face.
“God has given me back my life to draw anew.”
He gave her a hug and raised His hands to praise God.
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It is by his light we can see our way to walk or draw.
A few spelling and grammar errors but the story clearly shows through.