So here is a sort of stupid short story I wrote for my Language Arts class's Literary Magazine. I was supposed to write a story with a moral, but I found that out after I'd already written it, so I twisted it up a little to fit the needs, but the moral doesn't make that much sense. Well, here it is:
Painting an Adventure
By Anjali Kunapaneni
Holding the long, thin brush steadily, I swiped it across the canvas, revealing stunning rays of crimson and scarlet as I painted a waterside sunset. I painted daring indigo, imagining a calm sea after a violent storm. In my imagination, anything could happen. Why? Because, all of a sudden, I was there.
I stood on a white a sailboat, small compared to the vast ocean surrounding me. I put my hand to my forehead, wiping away beads of sweat quickly rolling down it as the summer heat seemed to catch up to me. I grinned, enjoying the heat compared to the cruel, harsh winter cold back home.
I looked up and saw the magnificent sunset from my painting, and smiled at it’s beauty. I turned and saw a large rock, with a tall, blonde woman in a billowing white dress. Her long, tangled hair of gold blew in the strong wind left from the storm. Her dress was in rags, her eyes filled with fear.
Voiceless, she looked pleadingly at me, and I wondered how I could possibly help her. She glanced behind her and looked at me with terror. She seemed to be screaming, but I couldn’t understand what was so horrifying that it would cause her to act like this. She began to sob uncontrollably.
I watched until I couldn’t stand seeing her in despair and pure agony, and I turned around. Curiosity overtook me, and I looked back to see that the woman was gone, rock and all. I was horrified, wondering what evil had taken her, but I was also a bit relieved to see that I was not depended on by her to save her. I wasn’t ready for something like that to happen – for someone to trust me to do something so important.
I realized that was the whole point, and that was what I was supposed to have understood. I leaned against the sailboat’s thick mast, but to my surprise I stumbled over, falling on my bottom, scraping my palms against the hard, familiar wood of my drawing room floor. I was back.
I frowned, and decided not to end my little adventure. I got up and steadied myself, then replaced the canvas of many blue waters with new one. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and painted. I painted and painted. I painted until I could no more, and then stared at the painting. Then I was there.
Long vines of myrtle green wrapped and hung from the thick branches of wide, humungous trees. Bright flowers dotted the forest path, and dark birds chirped as they flew above my head. Bushes of fresh, green leaves covered the ground, still moist from the morning dew. I smiled, taking everything in at once. I was in a jungle of exotic plants and animals and beautiful scenery.
All of a sudden I heard a fierce growl come from behind me. I slowly and hesitantly turned, and saw a shadow from within the many shades of green, clashing together to form a perfect scene. The moment was ruined by another growl, and this time I saw the eyes. They were beady eyes, small but piercing. All my senses told me run away as quickly as possible, but I was scared stiff and I could barely breathe. The creature slowly crept out of the darkness, revealing it’s golden fur and many black spots. A jaguar.
I closed my eyes and counted to three. Then I opened them and whispered, “Nice kitty. I’ll be going now.” I was about to back away, when I heard a rustle of leaves behind me. My luck just couldn’t get any worse. Sure enough, I heard a growl and the sound of twigs breaking. I was cornered.
I turned sideways so I could see both big cats, and I backed up to a cypress tree behind me. One of the jaguars bared it’s large, pointy, white teeth, making me sink lower to the ground. I trembled with fear, and looked up, hoping the painting would take me back already.
I shut my eyes tight as I heard the growling coming closer until it turned into a soft purring. I opened one eye and saw that I was back, and my cat, Snow White, was sitting on my desk covered with sketches and designs.
I ran to the table and shooed her off, because I hadn’t realized what had happened yet. That’s when I figured it out. I was saved. But why? I sat down for a moment and thought, wondering about what had just happened. Then I got it.
When I had been taken to the sunset on the oceanfront, it was a lesson to show me that I wasn’t ready yet to take on big challenges, but when I tried to force my way into an adventure on the second try, I had been put in a terrible situation as a punishment.
As I thought of all that, I came to another realization. Maybe everything was just a lesson. Maybe having me sent to the jungle was a lesson, in way, by teaching me not to be afraid. But if that was true, I failed miserably. But, at least I understood. I understood I shouldn’t be scared of anything, from killer jaguars to an unforgiving choice deciding one’s fate to life in general.
I realized what had lead me to this realization was painting. Painting. And that was when it hit me. Painting. That decision lead me to the being the person I am today. Now I am a painter and illustrator, and I also work as a restorer from time to time. It isn’t perfect, but I am happy. All thanks to a little adventure I call painting.
Hoped you liked it. Comment!
Anjali
