The Silk Painter
The ivory silk stretched taut on the frame, tethered by pins at each end. Her brush whispered down the length of it, slashes of red dye instantly softening.
“You’ve been doing this for many years,” he said.
“I’ve been doing this for many years,” she agreed. Now the blue. Now a golden ray. She sprinkled salt and the ray burst into a thousand suns.
She was aware of him hovering, watching, searching for some clue. But she was not there to provide him with clues. Those he had to find for himself.
Next she chose black. This black wasn’t to hide, but to reveal.
2016 is my year of the Thursday Blurt. These are quick-writes, when I take advantage of a spare five, ten minutes and write whatever comes to mind, starting with something tangible, something I can see, smell, taste or hear or touch as I start to write. If the blurt turns out to be a story, great. If it doesn’t, tant pis.
Please note: all stories and material on this website, except for comments by others, are © Susi Lovell .