One hundred and seventy-five words…

for Sunday Photo Fiction

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In a concrete bunker midst the trees, an artist stares at a blank canvas, his mind empty, his thoughts an open space.

With a blow of his arm, his easel hurtles across the room. He tramples across discarded canvases and crumpled empty paint tubes, then crouches in a corner, head resting upon his knees. His inspiration has deserted him.

Through a rusty iron grid crisscrossing the broken window, a sunray permeates the gloom. He looks up and gazes at shadows flickering upon the peeling wall. They dance, they trip, they spin. The awful silence is broken by the merry song of a whistling bird.

fgchfgHe unfurls his aching body, rights his easel and grasps a canvas. He adorns his palette with paints of many colours, then with flicks of his wrist pictures begin to form. One, then two, three, more.

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It was years before the studio was discovered. A glimpse of heaven one reporter wrote. Hidden treasures said another. Nobody knew who the creator was. Not a signature, not a single clue.

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Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding. My tale is very loosely based on her photograph!

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22 thoughts on “One hundred and seventy-five words…

  1. Abhijit Ray January 20, 2019 / 12:25

    Many great artists go unrecognised. Good at least he found his inspiration at last.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Denise January 20, 2019 / 12:36

    I have a very nice drawing hanging in my guest room that my oldest son made. He won an award for it in a Congressional art contest. I thought he would study art. He is a computer engineer. He said artists don’t make money until after they are dead. So true in many cases.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Keith's Ramblings January 21, 2019 / 10:23

      Sadly this is I often the case. Although he’s gone for a safe option career-wise, I hope he’s continued panting as a hobby.,

      Like

  3. Mike January 20, 2019 / 12:50

    A story full of images. I really enjoyed it

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Iain Kelly January 20, 2019 / 20:39

    The struggle of the artist. Sometimes it never feels worthwhile, but you have to keep believing!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ceayr January 21, 2019 / 08:09

    I think most of us are fascinated by how our Muse strikes. This spells out how we face long spells of frustration interspersed with moments of inspiration.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Violet Lentz January 21, 2019 / 09:53

    He lived a passionate life.. His need for destruction just as fierce as his creativity. Excellent combination for an artist. Very nice write.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Marja January 22, 2019 / 03:00

    Sounds like the life of an artist You are one as well Always love your original stories

    Liked by 1 person

  8. John Yeo January 23, 2019 / 10:40

    There’s a clue here to the meaning of remembering to sign your work. Recognition doesn’t come from hiding your light under a bushel. Nice write Keith!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Mukhamani January 24, 2019 / 13:20

    So we’ll expressed, I could see him.

    Like

  10. Mukhamani January 24, 2019 / 13:20

    So well expressed. That was typing mistake earlier.

    Like

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