I didn’t understand why I couldn’t go. It was on the 5th of July, and my friends were all celebrating Mari-Anne, my best friend’s birthday. “Because I said so.” Mom had said. I grunted, not excepting that as a real answer. I didn’t say yes to watching old Auntie Carol, but my mother had said I did.
“This Isn’t Fair!” I thought while putting on the jeans I was going to wear to Mari-Anne’s party. The only thing that interested me was Uncle Kermit’s painting at Auntie’s house. I slipped into a mint green shirt, and I pulled on my red sneakers. I walked sulking to my mother’s bright red car.
While we were driving to Auntie Carol’s house, we passed by Mari’s house, I slinked low into my seat, and as soon as we left, we arrived at that big, ancient, white house with the red shutters. I gloomily strolled to the mansion while my mother seemed to march. We finally had gotten in the manor when Auntie sent me away! So I went exploring.
I had finally gotten, after what seemed like hours of walking, to a big, grand door. It had a brass knocker which I couldn’t get to, but I reached the doorknob. The door clicked and opened, and my eyes scanned the chamber.
I wasn’t much, just an easel with paint, and a canvas. But then I got closer, and I noticed colors I had never seen before. A mystical blue, sparkling almost prettier than the oceans, a pink almost as pure as a newborn’s skin, and the most gorgeous yellow, like a pearl polished and scoured over and over until it was shining like a star in the sky.
I don’t remember what came over me. I stole away a piece of birch wood, and I began to paint. I painted and painted, and stood there for over quite an hour, just painting, painting. A blue ocean, an oyster, cracked open to reveal a luscious pink tongue and a pearl the size of a quarter.
“Amethyst? Amethyst?” I heard a gasp, an angry one,” Amethyst! I thought I taught you better than this!” I hear footsteps, then leaned over to add a sandy gray to my brush, painting footprints on the beach. I felt eyes above me, and so I looked up. My mother’s gray, frim eyes were misty, and she allowed me to continue. An hour later, the right side of my head was churning, bubbling with ideas. Next time I painted, I could create a…a … a Ferris wheel! Yes, and a fair! My masterpiece was finished, and that was only the beginning.
Short Stories
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