Sequel: Knock Me Out ›
Oil Scripture
Two
There was a small poster on the side of the door, confirming that he was at the right building, he looked at the building from the outside, taking in its size and decrepit state, no-one would have noticed this place even if it slapped them across the face. He sighed and swallowed down his pride, this artist clearly wasn’t known well, but he couldn’t judge her yet, not until he saw what she had created. He stepped into the cool room and walked softly into the main room.
There were several paintings hanging on the decrepit walls, it was a wonder how this artist had created so many pieces yet remained so unknown. Mat walked cautiously towards the painting closest to him, his breath catching in his throat as he moved closer. It was almost as if he was being drawn to the artwork, pain stricken eyes met his own as a hand reached out to him. It was a girl, her face stained with tears, her hand covering her mouth as she reached out, trying to grasp the hand of those that watched her. Mat found it hard to tear himself away from the image and once he did his eyes fell upon the name of the piece: “Help”. There was no explanation as to why it was called help yet it seemed to scream out a story, a hidden meaning. He looked back once more at the painting, detailed to perfection, it was like she was truly there, reaching out to him.
Mat had been so absorbed by what he was looking at that he hadn’t noticed anyone move, let alone stand next to him.
“Do you like it?” a sweet voice asked. Mat jumped slightly and held his hand to his chest feverishly, taking in deep breathes he turned to face his company, it was a woman. She was a similar height to him, and similar to Mat’s own habits, she had drops of paint decorating her complexion, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun. Mat cleared his throat and turned to her, smiling as brightly as he could in order to hide his previous shock. She smiled back at him and looked questioningly into his eyes, trying to get an answer to her question.
“I do like it,” he finally said, “it feels like the girl’s actually calling to you, actually crying out for help,” he explained. She smiled at his response and he took her demeanour in, trying to figure her out with his inquiring gaze,
“That was how I felt at the time,” she replied softly. She quickly raised her hand level to his own in an attempt to introduce one another properly, “my name is Persia Hallaway,” he took her hand in his own and shook it softly, in fear of actually harming her.
“I’m Mat, Mat Devine. It’s a pleasure to meet you Persia, you are a wonderful painter.”
“Why thank you Mat,” she blushed. Giving him a teasing glare before dismissing his compliment, she never was good at taking compliment’s, she always felt she was never worthy of them, felt that they were not meant to be given to her, but she smiled and looked joyfully into Mat’s eyes, she took his appearance in before stepping back.
“Go ahead and look at the rest of the paintings, rest assured there’s a story behind all of them.”
There were several paintings hanging on the decrepit walls, it was a wonder how this artist had created so many pieces yet remained so unknown. Mat walked cautiously towards the painting closest to him, his breath catching in his throat as he moved closer. It was almost as if he was being drawn to the artwork, pain stricken eyes met his own as a hand reached out to him. It was a girl, her face stained with tears, her hand covering her mouth as she reached out, trying to grasp the hand of those that watched her. Mat found it hard to tear himself away from the image and once he did his eyes fell upon the name of the piece: “Help”. There was no explanation as to why it was called help yet it seemed to scream out a story, a hidden meaning. He looked back once more at the painting, detailed to perfection, it was like she was truly there, reaching out to him.
Mat had been so absorbed by what he was looking at that he hadn’t noticed anyone move, let alone stand next to him.
“Do you like it?” a sweet voice asked. Mat jumped slightly and held his hand to his chest feverishly, taking in deep breathes he turned to face his company, it was a woman. She was a similar height to him, and similar to Mat’s own habits, she had drops of paint decorating her complexion, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun. Mat cleared his throat and turned to her, smiling as brightly as he could in order to hide his previous shock. She smiled back at him and looked questioningly into his eyes, trying to get an answer to her question.
“I do like it,” he finally said, “it feels like the girl’s actually calling to you, actually crying out for help,” he explained. She smiled at his response and he took her demeanour in, trying to figure her out with his inquiring gaze,
“That was how I felt at the time,” she replied softly. She quickly raised her hand level to his own in an attempt to introduce one another properly, “my name is Persia Hallaway,” he took her hand in his own and shook it softly, in fear of actually harming her.
“I’m Mat, Mat Devine. It’s a pleasure to meet you Persia, you are a wonderful painter.”
“Why thank you Mat,” she blushed. Giving him a teasing glare before dismissing his compliment, she never was good at taking compliment’s, she always felt she was never worthy of them, felt that they were not meant to be given to her, but she smiled and looked joyfully into Mat’s eyes, she took his appearance in before stepping back.
“Go ahead and look at the rest of the paintings, rest assured there’s a story behind all of them.”
♠ ♠ ♠
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