When Clyde Parker, the wayward son and the rotten-apple of the Parker family-tree, storms his way back into Avery Fields, he sets out a flurry of butterfly effect in Dawn Marshal's life.
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UNVEILING THE PAINTING WREAKED havoc within her heart. Brown eyes stared back at her from the painting, she let her fingers wander the outlining of the painting, envisioning where his brushes had left their touch in gentle artistic strokes. The girl in the painting was ethereal, almost otherworldly. Like she waltzed straight out of a children's fairytale and he captured her in his canvas. Dawn joined the dots on her cheeks and bridge of her nose like checkpoints in a map.
The girl, she was beautiful and how could she not be? For he had given her waterfall for hair, constellations as her freckles and inferno within her eyes. Her skin was dewy like cherry blossoms kissed by the rain, soft like summer rays. Enthralled, she gazed at the painting as if lost in a trance, enchanted by a faerie's charm.
Clyde Parker's heart was like smoldering ember, charred by the cigarette smokes. His heart was wedged between a graveyard of cinder, tainted black but everything he touched became golden. His blue eyes restrained the ocean waves, sometimes carried galaxies within them. She wondered, with pretty blue eyes like that, fathoms deeper than the ocean; perhaps the world truly appeared more beautiful in them.
She wished she could see the world through his eyes.
"Who's there?" The thundering of a voice pulled her out of the trance. She was blinded by the flashing of a torch light. The paint brush she was cradling in her hand earlier loosened out of her grip and dropped on the floor.
"You! What are you doing here?" The sheer coldness of this voice sent a shiver down her spine and not in a pleasant way. The man's eyes looked like they could freeze hell over, his face chiseled and sharp. A statue which is devoid of any human-emotions. He was perhaps a handsome man during his day but now it appeared so the years were not very kind to him. Mr. Calum Parker was just another casualty of time.
"I-" Her mouth suddenly parched out like a puddle under the scorching heat of the sunlight. The torchlight flickered from the painting to Dawn.
Mr. Parker's eyes bulged out of their sockets, his face was riddled by the evident shock. Mr. Parker had the air knocked out of his lungs, "The girl in the painting it's-"
"It's me," The very declaration made Dawn jump out of her own skin as if everything suddenly dawned upon her.
Mr. Parker stared at her taken aback. He still couldn't believe that she had walked out of the painting and was indeed standing before him, in flesh. She was real and his son wasn't losing his mind seeking the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. "Miss...I am sorry I didn't quite catch your name."
She forced a smile, "Pardon my manners Mr. Parker. I am Dawn Marshal," Her eyes drooped to her feet and suddenly the ground appeared to be rather interesting.
"Well Miss. Marshal I am afraid this room is off limits. Dare I ask, how you found this room in the first place?" He stowed his hands in his blazer-pockets and took an intimidating stance before her. Dawn Marshal was barely seconds away from pissing her pants. His icy stare froze her feet to the ground.
