The Second Coming

Chapter 2: Painted Memory

I stared intently at the canvas that was in front of me. My hand made steady, swift strokes of red. I watched as the picture that had been firmly printed in my mind for the past couple weeks, slowly take shape on the once blank canvas. Dipping my brush in the burnt yellow acrylic paint on my palette, I went back to work, intent on removing the image from my mind, once and for all. But they never really go; they always will haunt me.

Quickly pulling my wavy brown hair up, I set back to work. So close to being completed. Paintings lined the wall and floor, each one with a different image, not one not even closely alike. Each one with a story behind it, ready to be shown to the world. A small TV set sat in the corner of the room was on and was playing the news with the mute on so I could paint in peace and quiet. The only window was covered with a thick curtain, blocking me from the outside world. I hardly went outside, the only time I left my home was to go to one of my own art exhibition or interviews. Or when my best friends dragged me out. The rest of the time I was inside painting away my memories.

Dabbing a little brown paint onto the canvas, I sat back and examined my work. This was from one of my more gruesome memories. A window frame separated the piece in two, the wood was burned from the smoke that billowed out. A girl no older than twelve stood on one side of the picture, fear and hopelessness shone through her eyes and facial expression. Red, yellow, and orange decorated that half of the background, forming flames that appeared to be dancing. The girl's arm was outstretched through the window, but on the other side of the window the pristine skin was blackened, the texture showed red blisters on cracking skin. The fingers stretched out in one last feeble attempt of attracting help.

I knew the ending of the story to that painting, even if the viewers couldn't see it. A horrible death. A shiver ran up my spine, I could feel the heat of the flames against my skin and my lungs protesting as they took in heavy smoke. I could feel my arms blister. Tugging my long sleeves down to cover my arms, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, calming myself until my senses turned back to normal. Once I was back to normal, I turn back with small paint brush dipped in black and signed my name in the familiar cursive that decorated the left corners of each painting in the room.

"Camille Leanne Daisy! Please, tell me that you're finished!" One of my two best friends burst through the door in a rush, her crazy dyed red hair flying everywhere.

"I'm finished. Just completed the last one, Ashley." I replied, setting back the painting I just finished so it could dry without having the risk of getting ruined.

Ashley freely let herself walk to my new painting and examined it. "Wow...it's amazing...probably one of your best. Will it be dry in time for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I just did finishing touches, that's all." I replied, cleaning up my mess as my friend casually walked around the room, inspecting my work.

The short red head stopped in front of one painting. "Is this what I think it is?"

I casually approached my friend, guessing which one she was talking about. I pulled to a stop beside her. "Yup, it is."

The painting Ashley had pointed out was one of my darker, simpler paintings. A gun pointed at the viewer, fingers limply grazed it, another set of arms sprawled out beside it, and in the background a silhouette of a child. Stepping away, I examined the rest without saying the word. Ashley was my closest friend and she knew everything about me- my past and my memories. She was the only one who knew.

"So, when do you have to bring all of these to the gallery by?" She knew me so well. I just walked away and she knew to change the subject.

"Tonight."

Her jaw fell open. "Good luck with that! Who's getting them there? You're not gonna miss our girls' date are you? You know Promise has been looking forward to this. "

"Thanks." I gave her a flat look. "The gallery owner's sending someone to help. Don't worry. I gave them a key, so they'll get them and they know where I want each one to go, so I can just focus on you two."

"That's good." I heard Ashley reply as my attention turned to the television. A young man stood next to a bearded man. The anchor was talking, I noticed from the subtitles. I wasn't really paying attention, but when 'Memoria,' and 'Jesus' flew across the screen, my eyes widened. Getting as close as I could, I could faintly make out the gapping holes in the man's wrists in the old television screen. Could it be? I never believed in anything religious people threw out. Especially Christians. But as I looked closer, my mind filled with questions.

"Can you believe it? Who would've known." Ashley commented beside me. She watched the words float across the screen with her arms crossed. "But it must be true, right? I mean, he has holes and everything. This Memoria thing must be getting pretty intense. It seems like every time I get on the news there's something about it on. Plus, with you and Promise both...do you think I could get it?"

I slowly nodded, only listening to half of what she said. "I have to meet him. And everyone can get it. Everyone WILL get it...just depends how soon they'll remember."

"You serious? About meeting that guy?"

Again I nodded. "Dead. I need to know if this is real or not."

"How much more real does it get?" My friend gapped at me.

"I have to see for myself. Not through a television screen."

"You'll meet him someday." Ashley reached over and shut off the TV. "Speaking of which, how's your skin?"

I rubbed my deformed, scaly pink skin through my shirt sleeve. Normally my memories, are well, just memories. But this one moved up a level, not horribly but just my arms were covered in burns. "As well as expected. Let's just hope this memory goes soon."

"And let's hope that the next one isn't worse."

"AGH!" The door flung open and in strode a tall blonde, waving a magazine around. "Just because I decided to go public with this Memoria shit, these people think that I can't do anything anymore!"

"What happened, Promise?" I quickly asked, my friend was usually very well put together.

"This is what happened!" Promised fumed, shoving the magazine into my hands as Ashley came up behind me so she could read.

As I read the article, my jaw dropped. Promise was a famous singer and because of that critiques were extraneously more harsh on her. But as I read the article, they went too far. Promise had stressed on deciding on telling the public about Memoria she recently started having. After many weeks of talking with Ashley and I, she decided that she was going to go ahead and do it. Now, critiques were questioning her mental stability and if she would continue on with her career and not drop her position on the charts.

"Oh, Promise! They're just being mean. Don't listen to anything they're saying. You did the right thing, and you'll be an inspiration to all of your fans."

"I know! But this makes me so mad. I don't see why people can't just keep their mouths shut, keep their opinions to themselves, and stop spreading rumors!" Promise ranted. She shoved her straight, long blonde hair from her face.

"Well, that's what happens when you become famous." I replied, giving her a side hug.

She sighed and closed her blue eyes. "I know. But it's not right and it's not fair."

"Life's not fair. Trust me. I know." I replied simply.

Ashley gave a small smile. "I think we all need this girls' date...that's if you still want to, Promise."

Promise grinned slightly, pushing aside her frustration. "Of course I want to. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Or your grand opening tomorrow, Camille."

I grinned. "I'm glad both of you can come. Now, let's go have fun and relax before tomorrow comes."

Promise smiled. "Please!"