Seeing Red | Teen Ink

Seeing Red

November 2, 2015
By sullivanke BRONZE, Weymouth, Massachusetts
sullivanke BRONZE, Weymouth, Massachusetts
4 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The red paint trickled down the flesh canvas, dripped over his fingertips, and formed a small puddle on the floor. The tip of the paint brush lay in the middle of the puddle, soaking in the rich color. It sat there, waiting for the paint to be released into a beautiful creation; but it waited in vain. Creativity was pouring out of the artist, but it would never be used again.

Before that, the red paint trickled down the sunset colored canvas as the artist splattered it with the paintbrush. “No good… no inspiration… no creativity… no purpose,” he muttered angrily under his breath. His violent motions became less controlled and more convulsive as the paint collected at the bottom. He began to sob, and surrendered to his bottled up emotions as they came pouring out. He stopped hurling the paint and collapsed on the floor, possessed with overwhelming sadness. He looked over at the nearly empty can of red paint, glanced at his wrist; and in that moment, he decided to make his own.

Before that, the red paint trickled down the artist’s hand, as he stood stunned, tightly holding the paintbrush by the bristles. Just an hour ago, he had finished the painting, positive that this was the one; but now, clear tears painted his face as he was told once again that his work wasn’t good enough to be displayed.

Before that, the red paint trickled down the orange canvas as the artist carefully recreated a stunning sunset. He replenished the paintbrush with red and caressed his hand over the painting, all the while thinking, “This is going to be the one. I will finally be able to make a living.”

Before that, the sunlight caressed the artist’s face as it sank towards the horizon. He lifted his head to embrace the light, letting its warmth fill him completely. He breathed in inspiration, carefully set up his easel, and quickly opened his paint. He mixed the blood red color with a bold white, to get a more soft and vibrant tone. He took another deep breath, pressed a paintbrush onto the blank space, and watched the red paint trickle down the canvas.


The author's comments:

This is a "Written in Reverse" piece about the tragic suicide of a painter. 


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