Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring diverse authors who post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Today’s word prompt is short. This week we switch to a work in progress entitled Demoness Dreams. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Tossing down her satchel, Neva sank cross legged to the ground. Bending forward, she threaded her fingers through a lush patch of purple wildflowers sprouting through the carpet of pine needles. The short, slender stalks were soft and warm from the late afternoon sun. Ooh, what tiny blossoms but ornately formed, and so perfect.
A bird’s stuttered caw drew her attention. Her gaze traveled up to the panorama of tall pines dancing beneath a pristine sky. She lifted her arms to the heavens and drew in a deep breath, the glorious view and crisp woodsy fragrance swelling her heart. Though she loved scented candles, nothing manufactured could stimulate the senses like the out of doors. All of the senses. If she could capture on canvas a fraction of the feeling she had right now, she’d die happy.
Some people considered nature merciless and cruel, but to her it was soul soothing and a needed solace from her menial job at a local store. A wry smile tugged at her lips. Even a starving artist had to keep a roof over her head. But she needn’t worry about that right now. She had two whole hours just to laze away and paint. A pleasurable sigh escaped her, as she unzipped the satchel and removed a blank canvas, brushes, and a tub of acylics.
Soon the rectangular white board was undergoing metamorphosis into whirls and splashes of cerulean, emerald, lavender, and violet. Mixing the colors with first white and then black on a paper plate, she managed an array of interesting shadings.
Acrylics were great because they were vibrant and dried fast. If she didn’t like the outcome, she could paint right over the picture. Pursing her lips, she held the board at arm’s length and surveyed the jumble of colors. Hmm, not too shabby. Of course the effort didn’t meet her highest expectations—her paintings never did—but she marveled at the way the purple hues stood out in the sea of blues and greens.
The painting was almost dry, and she swooshed it back and forth in the air to hurry the process.
Caws shrieked above, and she looked up, startled. Two crows fought in mid air, lunging toward each other and pecking. A spike of black floated down and landed on an ice blue section of the painting, sticking to its tackiness. Her heart beat faster at the strange sight. The black feather transformed the art work, adding a different quality. No longer serene, no longer soothing. The painting now held a breath of the macabre.
The strange thing was, she really liked it.
Thanks so much for stopping by. Please visit the fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Fantasy Romance