The Painter's Dream- Chapter 1
I've always liked painting, ever since I was a child. My parents entered me in a local art show when I was in first grade, and I got first place. The judges called me a prodigy, the next Michelangelo. Now I'm 17, and things only got better.
My story starts the night of my 14th birthday. It was 5-till-midnight and I was sitting by my windowsill, the window open. The day had been one of my best, all my friends and my family over for cake and ice cream. Oh, how I love strawberry cake. It's even better warm with a glass of milk, like floating in a dream world full of strawberries and cake and rivers of milk and sugar and... okay, enough of that. This is a story about painting, right? Although I should write one about strawberry cake, I should get back to my topic.
As I was daydreaming, something in a silver box appeared on my windowsill with a white ribbon. I picked the box up and turned it over. No tags, no names, nothing. I untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a silver paintbrush. Shocker. It was light, the medium like nothing I had painted with before. Was this even mine? My clock dinged "Midnight", and I set the brush down. I'd deal with it in the morning, when I could think.
That night I dreamed about another reality with magic and sorcery and those popular knights in shining armor and damsels in distress. It was Renaissance-y and sooo pretty. I dreamed that I was a sorceress, a powerful one that had come to their world. I faintly remember meeting a knight of some sort, but I couldn't make out the details. I had friends, we traveled together, laughed and cried together. I think some died, but my dreams are fuzzy. Near the end, something like a twist in the story happened and I heard my name.
"Susan! Get up! You have requests from the mail!"
I heard my mom's voice and surfaced into consciousness. "Coming mom!" I crawled out of bed, somewhat full of energy at 7 in the morning, so unlike me. That means I got a little less than 7 hours of sleep and I was hyper. I slipped into shorts and a tank top, brushed my teeth and hair then headed downstairs. It smelled like eggs and bacon, one of my favorite things to eat for breakfast. Normally she makes that when I have a lot of work to do. Hmm. "Good morning." I told my mom and sat down.
" Good morning honey." She set a plate of steaming food in front of me and sat down across from me. "You got letters requesting paintings." She handed me the stack, smiling. I grinned back and flipped through the letters. Somebody in Kansas, Ohio, California.... it just went on and on.
"I'll do it." It was summer, after all. The task seemed simple enough. Little did I know that this was only the beggining of a saga worth writing. And something that would change my life forever.