Writing Contest Entries! (For: SiennaWritesAlot)

Week Four

Heyo!!

Yeah I know, this one was really quick considering that it was just given to us today!

I just had free time at school (I'm still in it on my second free time, why? Idk) so I had a lot of time to write it down!

SiennaWritesAlot

I hope you had a good sleep! And I hope you like this entry!

Our challenge was to write about the picture given to us by the author which was a spray painted heart on a wall.

Enjoy!

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He stood before the wall, a sad smile on his face. He stood before the wall, his eyes sparkling with pride. He stood before the wall which contained the spray painted heart, not looking that professionally but full of meaning.

He remembers the day this heart was drawn by his own hand while the other clenched his mother's hand.

*Flashback*

"Go on son, draw whatever you like." Said a woman, her hair wrapped with a scarf. Her son's tiny hand clenched between her tired fingers.

They boy got out the spray paint and simply drew a heart, a red heart. He looked up at his mother with a smile and she asked:

" Why a heart dear." She was confused yet was happy to see her little boy smile.

"I drew you mama." The little boy answered.

"Me?"

"Yes, you're pretty and lovely and full of love like a heart. The paint is falling a little, but that shows your mistakes. But these mistakes make you the best mama ever!" He answered with a smile, showing his little white teeth.

His mother was shocked: "Where did you learn to talk like that?" She asked, curious. The boy simply said: "From that book you gave me on my last birthday. Also mama, one day, I'll draw you once I become an artist!"

"An artist?" The mother repeated in an amused tune.

"Yup! You'll be the best drawing ever! For now, you are the best mama ever! I love you!"

She smiled teary eyed: "I love you too, we don't need any drawing to prove that."

*Flashback End*

Tears fell from his eyes as he stood before the wall.

Three years passed, his mother died of cancer.

Another three years. He entered school.

Another three years, he was in college.

Another three years, he drew his mother.

And a final three years, he became the artist he wanted to be, his mother his number one success.

"We'll see each other again soon mama and I'll paint for you all the time, I promise."

And as if she was here, as if she heard him, a phantom of a hand came upon his shoulder and a voice spoke: "I'm proud of you my artist, I'll be waiting."

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Hope you liked it.

Good Luck!

Bye!