𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 ʰʸᵘᶰˡᶤˣ [on hold]

✧ 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 ✧

Again, the paint came to its end. The last remnants inside the small cup could hardly be absorbed by the brush and slowly clumped together, although the picture was far from finished. It was still missing that certain something. Some kind of deeper, more powerful red was missing, but such color he could not lay hands on yet, had never seen a color like that before.

A bit distraught, the boy groaned before he let the brush in his hand fall down to the spread newspaper on the floor. The pages were almost completely dyed red by the drops that slowly dripped down bit by bit from the canvas in front of him.
It was an incredible sight, so full of fineness and sheer beauty. Various strokes and shapes of light and strong red tones, intertwined. They crossed and diverged, forming delicate outlines that could not yet be discerned, but were formed with so much love. It would have been just about perfect if only that certain something hadn't been missing.
But sometimes, to create something beautiful it requires patience, of which he unfortunately did not have enough. It gnawed at his pride that he could not finish the picture before Christmas, although he had made such an effort.

Only one more night until the holiday, tomorrow would have been his time to shine and he could have finally shown the picture to his father, could have made him proud. Perhaps his father would then finally have recognized the talent in his son, would have understood his connection to art instead of finding fault with it. He could have been satisfied for once.

"It's bedtime, my angel", a voice sounded from another room. It was ever so slightly audible but he always reacted, becoming accustomed over the years to the dainty sound of his mother's voice. She drew his gaze to his open door.
He had completely forgotten that he had left it open, when nobody was supposed to see his masterpiece before it was finished. It was supposed to be a surprise.

The boy quickly wiped his hands on his trousers, which already had permanent stains from red paint that could not be removed even with the best detergent, and went out of his room to see his mother in the living room. She looked up at the Christmas tree, which lit up the whole room with its radiant lights. In some spots the lights reflected off the marble floor, which seemed to have been freshly mopped. But it didn't smell like cleaning products – instead, it smelled sweet like the scent of cinnamon and gingerbread.

"Mother–", the boy spoke up, making her turn with an expectant look on her face, "will father be back before Christmas?"

Her smile was so gentle and warm, it seemed straight out of a fairy-tale. It was no big mystery why she was considered one of the most graceful women in the city, when she looked like an actual angel watching over her child. Oh, just how lucky he was to have her as his mother.

"Of course he will, my dear. Father is a strong man, he will never let his family down", she answered, stepping forward to stroke the little boy's hair. "And what would Santa possibly think if your father didn't show up on time to spend Christmas with us?"

The boy laughed at the sound of her voice as she disguised it to sound more serious.
"Father wouldn't get any presents in that case."

Her cream colored evening robe slowly spread on the floor as she squatted down to eye-level with her son. "I'm sure he would get presents anyway. Your father tries very hard to be good, you know."

Her gaze drifted away, and without the boy catching it she looked completely blank for a brief moment. The security of her gaze that had been there before disappeared, but as quickly as it was lost, it found its way back to her face.

"And will sister be able to celebrate Christmas with us, too?" The boy looked down at his mother's belly and carefully placed his hand to it.
Almost nine months had passed, a little girl slowly growing big inside her. Perfectly healthy and sweet, just like the mother herself. The feeling of slight movement underneath the boy's hand made him wonder how his sister must have been feeling in there. Wasn't it already much too tight?