The Hidden Truth

"Ok, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I haven't put up a post in AGES, and I feel very guilty.. So I PROMISE I will try to give you guys something at least once a week...
On that terrifying note, let's begin....

Please know that none of the posts should be dismissed as pure fiction.. Whether an essay or a story, all of them have some truth, some little thought I want to share with you..."


I set my easel down, look around and smile, my hands soft, my heart bursting with youth, laughter in my throat. I remember thinking that by the time I had set the moment in paint, my hands would be as gnarled as the bark of the trees I was trying to capture... But one simply has to try and my young mind could not resist the challenge...
A swathe of green to capture the life and lushness of the haven. The lively, rushing brook with all its good humor standing out in sparkling blue. The lush, green grass that seemed as innocent as a little child...
The tall oak with all its wisdom, the dancing willow who shares its energy to all in need of it.The tall and strong pine, the noble and sturdy fir. The mischievous apple with all its childishness, the quiet and gentle maple...
And how could I leave out all the little friends I made?!! The proud robin with its sweet song, head held high who was the singer who starred most, but the sparrows, nightingales, swifts and cuckoos were frequently seen as well, always to be accompanied by a chorus of crickets. The chattering chattering squirrels on every bough who grew more daring every day. The little mole, always moving. The shy fox with its beautiful coat the shade of autumn, whose friendship I valued the most...
And at the very end, I add a young man and woman, cheeks red and dimpled, and smiling mouths..
I look at my work, pleased, content. But then I look closely, and I see a brown patch in the brook I don't remember painting...
And then everything goes out of my hands. I can do nothing but watch as the two humans seem to spring to life and destroy everything I have painstakingly painted. All my friends are cold-heartedly murdered one by one. The trees offer all their fruit and shade but to no avail. Their roots are cruelly hacked away as they cling to the soil for dear life. The birds are all chased away or shot. The feathers plucked from their lifeless bodies and their children stolen. The crickets are burnt along with the once lush grass, no-one to hear their final concert. The river is slowly poisoned and killed, but it never raises a hand against the murderers. The squirrels are chased after and shot and my fox is killed with a knife in the dark. And when everything is done, there is nothing left for them to gain, the two seem to simply walk away, a heart wrenchingly familiar coat the color of autumn on the woman's shoulders as she disappears.
I stare at my canvas, crumbling and burning, the bodies of all my loved ones lying forgotten on the parched ground and the tears reach my withered cheeks. I look down at my hands, as gnarled as the bark of a tree, when the tears tease the corner of my lip. I look up to find solace in reality, to assure myself that it was only my imagination, feeling that the only thing that could comfort me is orange fur between my fingers... I look up and gasp as my soul is broken into half.....

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