Beautiful Madness

The day was warm and hopeful. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees and illuminated the orange autumn leaves. I rested against the trunk of an old oak tree, turned away from the setting sun, a pen and notebook―both stolen from father's office―in my hand.

I began a sketch without thinking about it too much. I gained inspiration from my surroundings, letting the vague idea in my mind draw itself. My pen worked in perfect rhythm with the chorus of songbirds in the treetops, forming with them a soft peaceful song. In that moment my head was at last clear of all thoughts―whether they be good or bad. I was calm and focused, my mind at peace, if only for a second. There was no room for worries. There was nothing but the lively forest and I.

My pen moved faster, and all thoughts fell away. The birds grew louder still, as the sun sank in the sky and the light faded to a deeper shade of orange and illuminated the forest…

"What are you doing?"

The unexpected interruption had frightened me, and shoved me back into the cold world of reality. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the tree, taking a moment to let the shock drift away. When I opened my eyes I saw the all to familiar face of my little brother. He stood over me, squinting in the bright sunlight and looking at me with a concerned expression.

"Don't sneak up on me like that Theo!" I scolded, standing up as I spoke. I tore the drawing out of the notebook and folded it up.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He said apologetically. "I thought you would've heard me coming. I came to find you, to tell you it was almost time for dinner."

I closed the notebook and looked at him, grinning ever so slightly. "It is almost time for dinner, now isn't it." I said. He nodded, a look of suspicion in his eyes upon hearing my tone. "In that case," I glanced down the pathway, checking that it was clear of any passing townspeople. "We'd better not be late."

Without another word I took off in the direction of home, running but keeping my pace slow enough for him to catch up.

"Cut through the graveyard!" he called breathlessly from behind. "It's the quickest way home!"

I had to admit it was a good idea. So good in fact, I was quite surprised I hadn't thought of it myself. I veered left and ran through a grove of trees, jumped the fence in one stride, and carried on running through the graveyard.

It occurred to me that Theo might not be tall enough to jump the fence so easily. I glanced behind me to see if he was having trouble, and instantly regretted not coming to a complete stop before doing so. My right foot caught on a tree root, and I had no time to catch my balance before I found myself face down in the dirt.

I rolled over onto my back, realizing very suddenly how tiring all that running had made me. I looked at the sky, it was a beautiful shade of orange that faded into yellow at this time of day, warm cheerful colors; my favorite colors.

The soft crunch of footsteps through the fallen leaves told me Theo was nearing.

"Are you alright?" he asked when he was close enough to notice me lying there. "I saw you fall."' He offered a hand to help me up.

When I was back on my feet I looked myself over. My clothes were stained―which would not be appreciated by our mother―and my pants were tearing at the knee. My hands were scraped from a failed attempt at catching myself, and I could tell I had a number of bruises I would be feeling tomorrow, but I would live.

"I'm fine." I answered roughly.

"You got lucky," Theo said. "Had you fallen a few feet further, you would've landed on that headstone."

I followed his gaze to the headstone I'd narrowly missed. We both fell silent after reading the inscription;

VINCENT VAN GOGH
BORN/DIED MARCH 30th, 1852

The grave before us was that of our parents first child, a boy with whom I shared a name and a birthday, born exactly one year before me and died on the same day. His body lie beneath the cold ground, while his soul had left for heaven long ago. There he remained, the perfect child my parents had always wanted, and I was left here, nothing but a poor substitute. I would never be good enough, not in their eyes…

Theo took my hand. "I know what you're thinking." He said softly, his voice calm and comforting

"No you don't." I said dismissively.

"I do," he continued. "And don't think for a second that it's true."

We walked the rest of the way in silence.