Hello everyone! I’m coming to you with a bit of a different post today. You might remember a blogger called happyalexx who decided to stop blogging? Right, well, she has an email system for sharing creative writing pieces and (ages and ages ago) we decided to exchange pieces of writing. Being the person I am, it took me ages to do this. However, here is her story! I also encourage you to check out her email system: firstname.lastname@example.org
. Now here is her story:
By Alexandra Harrison, July 2016
Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust and if this grey snow had not settled, it was caught in the sunlight and made golden for a second. The room itself smelt of acrylic paint – an earthy, bitter scent that was inundated in each painting shirt or cloth. Everything stood still, an echo of those who had worked there. Canvases half finished, weeds pushing through the white-washed brickwork and looping around the French doors. Green foliage thinly scattered on the window panes. Water in paint stained glasses, infused with acrylic they looked like potions. In the corner of the studio, slumped, shapeless, motionless was Father’s old painting jacket. The room and its ghosts seemed to vanish when I saw it.
Thick, heavy blue material, freckles of paint covered the sleeves and chest. I felt the seams sewn together by little cotton train tracks of needlework and imagined how they had rested on his shoulders, chest and back once. I imagined the material on his body and I imagined the pockets filled with paint or glue. I felt them, these pockets, these now empty blue mouths and wondered how emptiness could ever feel so heavy.
‘Why aren’t you here?’ I asked him, but there was no reply.
I hope you enjoyed! Happy reading, Keira x.