I Won't Call This Hell

I pushed my bangs out of my face with one hand and kept scribbling onto the paper in front of me, never lifting my pencil. I didn't pay attention to the shouts outside of my car, or the loud rain slamming onto the pavement. I didn't even mind that I was soaking the seats of my car with my rain-drenched clothes. Right now, I was focused on my paper.

I'd been coming out of the main building with a bunch of other students, when we'd all seen the rain. I heard a few of them groan, and a few remarks about how their umbrellas were in their cars. How unfortunate. I, though, just stood there for a second.

A burst of thunder rattled in the clouds, and the rain instantly drenched me as I walked slowly towards my own car. I walked slow, because I didn't want to rush the picture forming in my head. I just walked, piecing together everything until it fit perfectly.

That's when I picked up the pace and ran.

Now, I was pulling the last of my pencil marks across the page. The vision in my head had made its way onto my paper, not as perfect as I had imagined it, but good enough. Now, I would be able to look back to it later, and hopefully bring the picture back into my mind.

The brick buildings were seen behind the parking lot, where the cars were aligned. The sky was dark, and the rain was falling. People were running across the asphalt, in a hurry to get to shelter.

It was a sketch. A rough one at that. I would probably throw it aside later after a few hours of trying to recreate what I'd first imagined.

Which explained why I took my core classes in Phoenix, while I kept my smaller art classes here in town. I was slightly hopeless when it came to finishing my drawings.

That's how I felt right now, though. Helpless.

I had exactly two days to move all of the stuff in the apartment Iused to rent out, and get it all back into my mom's house.

That's right.

Lyn Bryant.

College student, artist, moving back in with her parents.