For Six Sentence Stories where the given word is Grid.
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Standing in his studio, a crumbling concrete bunker amid swaying trees, a weary artist stares at a blank canvas, his mind empty, his thoughts a vapid open space.
With a swipe of his arm, his easel smashes to the floor, then he tramples across blank canvases and crumpled paint tubes and crouches in a corner, quietly sobbing, his head upon his knees; inspiration has deserted him.
Through a rusty iron grid that crisscrosses the broken window, sun rays permeate the gloom and gently caress his weary hands
He looks up and watches as shadows flicker upon the peeling walls, dancing, swaying, spinning, and then the awful silence is broken by a songbird, sitting upon the ledge whistling a merry tune.
He unfurls his aching body, rights his easel, gathers up some canvases, then adorns his palette with paints of many colours and with flicks of his wrist, pictures begin to form, one, two, three, more.
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It was years before the studio was discovered, a glimpse of Heaven, one reporter wrote, but nobody knew who the creator was, not a name, not a signature, not a single clue.
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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting.
What a sweet, moving story.
Thank you, Sadje
You’re welcome
Not to shabby coming from a tent in the middle of nowhere!
I love this story, Keith.
Thanks, Nancy. I’m back in my loft again, but missing my tent!
Lovely to have you back with us, Keith. Glad the boogey man didn’t get you!
It was quite a relief!
wow, lovely and poignant
Thank you, Beth.
I like how the bird is whistling a merry tune to wake him up from his despair.
Thanks so much, Frank.
I’m with the others… a small* jewel of a story.
*six-by-six, of course
That’s most kind of you, thanks muchly.
Intriguing unanswered questions! But I’m inspired — I’m getting out my paints today!
I hope you have a colourful day!
I got bogged down in washing and ironing yesterday. Ever have that happen? 😉 But today for sure!
Go for it gal!
I imagine there are many such glimpses of Heaven that hidden away behind closed doors.
I’m sure your right, Patricia.
I’m glad his muse came back, he probably realized it was never gone, just quiet. A very haunting story (and i have a feeling i’ve read one like it before).
Thanks, Mimi. I did write something similar about a toy maker several years ago.
Through the tears, art is born.
Perfectly put!
Inspiration is always present, we seem not to be.
A fine story Keith, with an ending, unfortunately, not unfamiliar to artists.
Thank you, Nick. It’s there, but not always apparent.
So poignant. The story of a whole lots of artists and creative people, ain’t this? Look at Van Gogh being celebrated all over after his death and what a lonely, traumatic life he led. Saddens me no end.
I wish you a wonderful weekend. Take care my friend.
Artists, musicians, writers; so many went unrecognised during their lifetime. Thank you for your kind wishes, Natasha.
Thank you for your words always. They add a glimmer of hope, joy and laughter to my life.
Oh dear, shame for the artist.
…whoever he was. Thanks, Chris.
Superb graphics! And, YAY, for birdsong. I always find it inspirational.
Thanks for your kind words, Hope.
Sometimes you break
Before you in truth create
That final sentence a grab of the gut.
Just lovely, Keith.
Perfectly put. Thank you, Liz.