This is just a random, short story. It was for class. Ah...teachers, they are annoying sometimes. This is about a painting...agh...was brain-dead when thinking. XD You know, school, no violence, borrring. I had violence in mind, but noooo, teacher... Agh! It's for the Los Altos History Museum....
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Once Upon a Painting
I watched the rain and lightning with horror. I was never afraid of storms. But this was different. I felt a hope shatter in my already lonely heart as I watched thee painting burn. Smoke filled my lungs and I began to cough uncontrollably. I felt tears sting my eyes and I wiped them away. I lurched forward and touched a remaining piece of my painting. My painting. Living Water. My grandparents had bought in 2014, in an auction. Now it was the year of 2089. I had received this painting as a gift from my grandparents just a few weeks ago. And I had fallen in love with it. I would stare at it all day and almost all night. Why? Because it was the only thing I had that was special to me in my life. It gave me a image of freedom. You see, some years ago, my parents had died in a fire. I was transported to orphanage to orphanage, no one willing to take me in as their adopted child. But then, something wonderful happened, at least what I thought at first thought. A man and woman were willing to adopt me. So of course, I willingly accepted the offer. But to my tragic horror, they turned out not to be the friendly looking couple I had first saw at the adoption center. They were actually quite cruel. They were mean. Worse than anyone else I had ever met in my life. They made me do all the work/. They would lock me up at any mistake I ever made. They liked getting me in trouble, of course. I endured it all. But as I said a few sentences above, my grandparents had sent me the painting. My foster parents didnt take that away/. But now, back to the present time.
I screamed as the flames choked me. I couldnt escape. I was locked in, trapped. Because earlier in the day, I had dropped a so called precise vase. I was in the basement. With the flames quickly devouring everything. I knew what had happened. I had heard a flash of lightning as it struck the house. It had reached the basement with me trapped inside. I coughed again as I held the piece of my greatly beloved painting in my shaking hand and lay low on the already ashen ground with terror eating me. What would happen? Would I die here, with my only piece of love? I stared at the piece of my painting in my hand. It was the part of the waterfall. There was supposed to be a river coming out of it and trees surrounding it. I could imagine the rest of the painting even with the small scrap after staring at it for countless hours. My vision started to blur. I felt dizzy and lightheaded and at the same time, weighed down by an unseen presence. I shouted one last word in desperation. HELP! I shrieked and fell down onto the floor in exhaustion. That was the last thing I remembered before I died. Yes. I died in the strike of lightning. I am in peace now. In my dream world in the Heavens where I now stay, playing in Living Water.
Christina shut the book with a quick slam. What kind of ending was that? It was...weird! SHe looked above her and smiled. The green trees were tall and grand and the waterfall crashed down noisily and sounded like thunder. WHat kind of writing would do such a thing? Living Water was a priceless painting. And also because ot was her home. She lived in the painting. She threw the book across the riverbank and it landed in the roaring river with a splash. SHe watched as it drifted away, farther and farther until she could no longer see it. Again, who would dare write about her home being destroyed? ANd that girl She had no name She stood up and walked to th3e riverbank and near the waterfall. Small sprays of water hit her and it felt refreshing. Raising her arms, she started chanting. Fac me ad ostium secreta possunt, ingressus sum, cataracta, She yelled over the noise of the waterfall. A small opening began to form and then soon grew large enough to step through. SHe looked both ways and ran through the entrance and found her older sister sitting at the floor of the back of te cave. Kayla? Why did you write that story? She asked curiously. Because I needed to tell my story, Chrisy.