My Sickly Mate

Chapter 6: Oh, no.

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Last Edited September 24, 2016 6:45pm

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I had been standing there and looking up at the wall of my bedroom wide eyed ever since I realized I had completed the painting. They would not tear away from the mural I had created unknowingly. The wolf and the colors used to paint the beautiful art were so possessive to me. My eyes would not stray no matter how hard I tried to will them another way. I could not focus on the music emitting from my radio nor anything around me. I was mesmerized with what was in my vision.

In my hands, held the painter's palette and brush steadily while I was in total awe in myself. My head was moving all over the place just looking at the size of it. The bottom of the painting reached my knees while the top of it ended just above my head. The huge size of the painting had me looking down at the palette in wonder of how much paint I had used. I used almost all of it. Every single color had either many brush strokes through it or it was mixed with a different color, either way all the paint was almost gone. My head snapped back up at the explosion of color that was now permanently on my walls forever.

"How long was I painting for?" I mumbled while scanning my eyes all over my wall. I had even put flowers along the base of the wolf's head, vines around the flowers, and a faint hint of wings behind the wolf itself. I absolutely loved everything about it.

Then, something had clicked inside my head, making me realize I was at a loss of the exact time. I finally tore my eyes away from the drying image and looked at my bedside table. I was surprised at what I saw. My digital alarm clock showed that it was five-forty two in the evening. I painted for almost six hours.

Noticing that I really needed to start cleaning up soon, I turned my head back to the painting slightly, glanced at it for a couple of seconds, then turned around fully with my back to my art work. I made my way over to my glass desk that was across the room and against the wall.

I relished in the brief, but pleasant feeling of finally moving my legs. It was nice feeling the carpet beneath my yellow socks rather than the plastic tarp that I stood on for hours. 

When I came up next to my art table, I set the items that my fingers held atop of the table used for everything art related. 

I picked up the small paint stained brush that was used to make the masterpiece and quickly put it in the cup filled with already blue water. While watching the brush slide next to the other brush occupying the cup and making a small clanking sound, I grabbed one of my clean rags that was next to the wall on the desk.

Needing to get the quickly drying paint off my hands and fast since I knew that if dried it would never come off, I rushed over to my bedroom door. With the rag in my hands, I used it to pull the door open. When the door was wide open, I took a couple steps forward out and stood face to face with my own white bathroom door. 

Using the rag again, I turned the handle of the door, pushed it open, and flicked the light on. I stepped off the white carpet of the hallway, onto the tan tiled floor, and turned to the right were my tiny off white colored sink sat. 

Using the the cloth, I turned the bronze colored metal handle towards me and the warm water immedietely came shooting out of the faucet. I then, pumped some of my favorite blossom smelling hand soap onto one of my palms while I set the rag to the side. I brought my hands together and massaged the soap into my palm and fingers while watching the soapy suds turn and an ugly color of greenish brown from all the paint.