Story Portrait of the Scarred Man

[Knight boi]

Chapter one
“Painting Memories”​

“John?John!John are you here with me?” The tone belonged to a woman, her mood sounded like she was concerned with her patient, though she thinks that she knows what I’m going through she really doesn’t. She thinks that I’m going through a tragedy from the car crash, it was a few months ago, but really I’m just looking for motivation for my next piece of art. She’s prescribed me a few different medicines that she thinks are working, but the nightmares keep happening, nothing is working, they keep happening, it’s like I’m in a different world, a world that’s filled with ink and the darkness brag slowly consumes me. The torture I go through, I promise I’m just looking for motivation, all I see when I enter my home is that damn blank portrait, it’s just blank, nothing, meaningless, pathetic with no use, I need to seek creativity, I fear that my life is slowly decaying when I’m not painting.“John!John are you here with me?” I slowly look up at the woman, she’s a bit annoying but she’s dedicated to figuring me out, but I don’t even know what I am. Maybe, just maybe I’m an artist. Or maybe I’m just a man slowly loosing my mind by the threads of that damn blank portrait. “I’m here Christiana, I was just thinking of your question.” She smiled back at me, her smile seemed like she was slightly annoyed by my train of thought, “Do I have to ask the question again? What do you feel about the car crash? I know that you think your alone right now but there are groups out there that they’re dealing the same thing with you. I can assign you to a group I know, I’m friends with the man who runs the group, he can certainly help you with what your dealing with.” She seemed like I was a lost cause for her just another man who’s going through a tragedy and slowly very slowly and surely loosing his mind. “Are you saying your giving up on me Christiana? I’m guessing I’m a lost cause by now? I’m telling you I don’t need those pathetic groups, those people freak me out, they’re all crying and sad, I’m not one of those people you think I am.” Christiana gave me a frown as she took off her glasses she used to read. I look down to see a book named,’Lord of the Flies’ it’s a different book from last time, I’m sure I’ve read it in my younger times, most likely around when I was in the 8th grade or younger years of high school. Actually in matter of fact, I didn’t get into reading until I was a junior in high school, I remember now in matter of fact. As I looked up again Christiana made a straight face as she open her mouth yet again, “John, you went through a lot, I’m not giving up on you, I’m just trying to help you get through all of this, so your going to have to do your part and help me help you okay?” She had a accent of someone from the North East probaly most accurately England or the British lands.

It was night time after I had finished my meeting with my therapist, the night had a slight breeze today, the trees gently shook onto each other scratching each other a little bit. I walked to my car with a hasty tempo, wanting to get home as soon as possible, maybe tonight would be the night I get my creativity and can finish that damn portrait of the color of white. As I got into my car, I put in the key to start the vehicle as immediately following up the process of starting the car the radio immediately turned on, they host was talking about some sort of ‘dating talk show’ where he’d call a couple who’ve broken up and try to get them together. It was obviously fake but my wife loved it, it somehow entertained from it, she didn’t believe it was fake and just used the term,’true love’ to protest against me. As I eventually had gotten home, the dead tree’s stayed perfectly still as I watched them while I drove into the driveway. As I gotten out, the breeze of wind had disappeared but the feeling of the cold followed up right behind it, as I breathed some mist would come out of my mouth. I stepped into my porch, unlocking the door as I opened the door into my humble house. I looked into the hallway to see some painting hanging on the wall, on the urge of falling, I’ll pick it up tomorrow. I walked past the hallway past the photo of me, my wife, and our daughter, though the glass holding the picture was slightly cracked blocking the faces of the trio. As I walked into the kitchen I looked out into the darkness to see a while portrait, good grief, it pained me to even look at it for a second, how useless it was, tonight was the night I will find my creativity or I swear to god I’ll loose my mind.