Masks
Painting.
People say that the home is where the heart is. Perhaps, but my heart stopped beating a very long time ago, and I had no attachments to the place I lived in. To me, it was merely a set of conjoined rooms with a roof that provided me with shelter and and a place for relaxing. Nothing particularly fancy or elaborate.
My "home" was a little loft in an old warehouse that was now a block of apartments. Loft's are generally supposed trendy, right?. Not this one. This decrepit pile of timber looked as though it would collapse any moment. Not that the thought bothered me. It's not as though I could die. The loft was the perfect cover for my sister and I. We posed as artists, struggling to make our way in world that was so opposed to original thinking and contemporary art. It was such an easy act to play. Humans are so easily fooled.
I turned into Maple Street, relieved that in a matter of seconds I would finally be locked away from the human population and their disgusting habits. As I walked quickly along, I realised something odd. It was eerily quiet. A little too quiet for a city. I could no longer hear the pumping music from clubs, nor the honking of enraged drivers. I surveyed the scene. There was nothing but buildings in decay, bins overflowing with rubbish and an old street light, flickering pathetically. A stray chip packet rushed past me. An empty coke can was pushed down the street by the invisible hands of the wind. The sky, that minutes ago was littered with brightly glistening stars, was now covered with thick menacing clouds.
Something was wrong. I knew it. I had to get back to my sister. Fast.
I ran the remaining length of the street, wary of even my shadow. Throwing open the rusting double doors of the complex, I sprinted up the rickety stairs. The door to apartment number 7 was closed. But that didn't mean anything. Quickly and quietly I jammed my key into lock and twisted it with severe force, almost, almost snapping the key off in the lock. The door swung open with a loud screeching. I silently cursed. I crept in. Everything was in place. Not a single thing missing or broken. But where was my sister? The silence was overwhelming.
I moved, without a sound, into her bedroom. And that's where I found her covered in something red and sticky.
"Violet, what the fuck are you doing?!"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Harley, I'm painting." My sister turned to look at me, her eyes alight with pleasure and happiness. She sat cross legged on the floor at the foot of her bed, a canvas propped up against and wall. Pots of paint spread around her, like a disorganised rainbow. She was covered head to toe in "Cool Red."
"I decided that we had better produce some new paintings, incase Nosy Norman comes back, wanting to know how our creative flow is going. Personally, I think my creative flow is just flourishing!" She snickered, splashing turquoise paint across the canvas...and the wall.
I sighed, ran a hand through my blond hair and snatched Violets paint brush up. "I though you were dead!" I hissed, through barred teeth.
"Dude, why?" Violet stopped painting, turned towards me with curiosity bright in her eyes. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Listen." I snapped, angry at how careless she had been. If I had of returned any later, something horrible could have happened. Something that I probably would never forgive myself for.
"What? Harley wha-"
"Just do it!"
"I don't hear anything."
"Exactly."
I watched her eyes widen in fear. The cogs turned in her brain, coming to a most horrible and frightening conclusion. "You don't think..."
"I don't know." I crossed my arms and lent against the wall, carefully analysing my sister. If I knew her well enough, and I did, she would begin to panic. She bit her lip, hurried over to the window and twitched the curtain a fraction aside, peering furtively out. Pulling the curtain back, she turned to me. Anger and fear clearly etched into every fraction of her face.
"What are we going to do? You said we would be safe here! You promised me we would be!" Violent tore at her hair, pacing furiously.
"And we will. I wont let anything happen to either of us. Come on, Vi. Have I ever let you down before?" I soothed, concealing my own feelings, sliding my mask into place.
Violet looked at the ground, letting her arms fall limply by her side. "No." she murmured.
"Exactly. Now come here." Obediently, Vi walked towards me. Carefully, I wrapped my arms around her lean frame and pulled her into my body.
My "home" was a little loft in an old warehouse that was now a block of apartments. Loft's are generally supposed trendy, right?. Not this one. This decrepit pile of timber looked as though it would collapse any moment. Not that the thought bothered me. It's not as though I could die. The loft was the perfect cover for my sister and I. We posed as artists, struggling to make our way in world that was so opposed to original thinking and contemporary art. It was such an easy act to play. Humans are so easily fooled.
I turned into Maple Street, relieved that in a matter of seconds I would finally be locked away from the human population and their disgusting habits. As I walked quickly along, I realised something odd. It was eerily quiet. A little too quiet for a city. I could no longer hear the pumping music from clubs, nor the honking of enraged drivers. I surveyed the scene. There was nothing but buildings in decay, bins overflowing with rubbish and an old street light, flickering pathetically. A stray chip packet rushed past me. An empty coke can was pushed down the street by the invisible hands of the wind. The sky, that minutes ago was littered with brightly glistening stars, was now covered with thick menacing clouds.
Something was wrong. I knew it. I had to get back to my sister. Fast.
I ran the remaining length of the street, wary of even my shadow. Throwing open the rusting double doors of the complex, I sprinted up the rickety stairs. The door to apartment number 7 was closed. But that didn't mean anything. Quickly and quietly I jammed my key into lock and twisted it with severe force, almost, almost snapping the key off in the lock. The door swung open with a loud screeching. I silently cursed. I crept in. Everything was in place. Not a single thing missing or broken. But where was my sister? The silence was overwhelming.
I moved, without a sound, into her bedroom. And that's where I found her covered in something red and sticky.
"Violet, what the fuck are you doing?!"
"What does it look like I'm doing, Harley, I'm painting." My sister turned to look at me, her eyes alight with pleasure and happiness. She sat cross legged on the floor at the foot of her bed, a canvas propped up against and wall. Pots of paint spread around her, like a disorganised rainbow. She was covered head to toe in "Cool Red."
"I decided that we had better produce some new paintings, incase Nosy Norman comes back, wanting to know how our creative flow is going. Personally, I think my creative flow is just flourishing!" She snickered, splashing turquoise paint across the canvas...and the wall.
I sighed, ran a hand through my blond hair and snatched Violets paint brush up. "I though you were dead!" I hissed, through barred teeth.
"Dude, why?" Violet stopped painting, turned towards me with curiosity bright in her eyes. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Listen." I snapped, angry at how careless she had been. If I had of returned any later, something horrible could have happened. Something that I probably would never forgive myself for.
"What? Harley wha-"
"Just do it!"
"I don't hear anything."
"Exactly."
I watched her eyes widen in fear. The cogs turned in her brain, coming to a most horrible and frightening conclusion. "You don't think..."
"I don't know." I crossed my arms and lent against the wall, carefully analysing my sister. If I knew her well enough, and I did, she would begin to panic. She bit her lip, hurried over to the window and twitched the curtain a fraction aside, peering furtively out. Pulling the curtain back, she turned to me. Anger and fear clearly etched into every fraction of her face.
"What are we going to do? You said we would be safe here! You promised me we would be!" Violent tore at her hair, pacing furiously.
"And we will. I wont let anything happen to either of us. Come on, Vi. Have I ever let you down before?" I soothed, concealing my own feelings, sliding my mask into place.
Violet looked at the ground, letting her arms fall limply by her side. "No." she murmured.
"Exactly. Now come here." Obediently, Vi walked towards me. Carefully, I wrapped my arms around her lean frame and pulled her into my body.
♠ ♠ ♠
Comment and subscribe!