Categories > Original > Horror
Before It Dries
3 reviewsHis hands eagerly snatched the paint and a brush, trembling fingers unscrewed the cap, dipped the brush’s golden bristles into the paint. The brush withdrew, and splashed across the page with fev...
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The canvas wasn't empty, but blank. Inches thick, though the frame was much smaller, it remained a comforting white. His shaking hands hovered over it while his mind raced. The best, best present for her. The best.
Red! She liked red! His hand clutched a red pen, jars of russet paint sat next to the book. His hands eagerly snatched the paint and a brush, trembling fingers unscrewed the cap, dipped the brush’s golden bristles into the paint. The brush withdrew, and splashed across the page with fevered intensity. Dip, paint. Dip, paint. Dip, paint. Red stained his hands, the handle of the brush.
Pausing, he stepped back. Red glistened on the pages of the book like fresh blood. Something to lighten it. Yellow. Hurry! Before the red dries!
The red jar was replaced by yellow, the brush tainted red was covered in this new hue, and yellow paint was hurriedly brushed over the red. The layers of the canvas began to warp from the leeching moisture of the heavy paint. More. More. More.
They had warped before. Dropping the yellow paint, he urgently pressed down on the layers of paint. The yellow and red swirled together, between his fingers. As he pushed, previous coats cracked off, white, green, brown, purple, orange, pink- fell away in flakes.
That had happened before too. He was calm now, now that he knew what to do, how to deal with the unruly canvas. Green opened, and was poured into the depression his hands had made. Poured more and more, until the bottle was gone and the level even.
Now all I have to do is wait.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He could not wait.
Blue fell into his hand. He didn’t know how it got there, but the paint was there, begging to be opened, and blue mixed with green, a pretty color he thought, I could give the color to her, bottle it up, and she could have a color of her own, but I need an empty bottle, and there’s none to be found-
I have to open another. Brown. Brown color ran down his hands. Another. Purple. Watched it mix with the brown. Another. Orange. Brighten things up. The paint was so cold on his hands, so cold-
Black paint. Hands were stained with black. The canvas- black on the top and all down the sides.
White! Hurry! Before it dries!
Red! She liked red! His hand clutched a red pen, jars of russet paint sat next to the book. His hands eagerly snatched the paint and a brush, trembling fingers unscrewed the cap, dipped the brush’s golden bristles into the paint. The brush withdrew, and splashed across the page with fevered intensity. Dip, paint. Dip, paint. Dip, paint. Red stained his hands, the handle of the brush.
Pausing, he stepped back. Red glistened on the pages of the book like fresh blood. Something to lighten it. Yellow. Hurry! Before the red dries!
The red jar was replaced by yellow, the brush tainted red was covered in this new hue, and yellow paint was hurriedly brushed over the red. The layers of the canvas began to warp from the leeching moisture of the heavy paint. More. More. More.
They had warped before. Dropping the yellow paint, he urgently pressed down on the layers of paint. The yellow and red swirled together, between his fingers. As he pushed, previous coats cracked off, white, green, brown, purple, orange, pink- fell away in flakes.
That had happened before too. He was calm now, now that he knew what to do, how to deal with the unruly canvas. Green opened, and was poured into the depression his hands had made. Poured more and more, until the bottle was gone and the level even.
Now all I have to do is wait.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He started pacing.
Wait. He could not wait.
Blue fell into his hand. He didn’t know how it got there, but the paint was there, begging to be opened, and blue mixed with green, a pretty color he thought, I could give the color to her, bottle it up, and she could have a color of her own, but I need an empty bottle, and there’s none to be found-
I have to open another. Brown. Brown color ran down his hands. Another. Purple. Watched it mix with the brown. Another. Orange. Brighten things up. The paint was so cold on his hands, so cold-
Black paint. Hands were stained with black. The canvas- black on the top and all down the sides.
White! Hurry! Before it dries!
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