LETTER TO ME ( Recommended post)
TWO LINES AND A CANVASS
Mr. X stood and pondered for the better part of about 40mins. He had his left hand supporting his chin. He tried to make his mind stop reeling, but he couldn't help it.
It had been a struggle to not be able to get a complete image in his mind before putting it on a canvass. And that worried him. What kind of artist, only had the first two lines of a painting for 9 weeks. He was due to turn it in, in another 4 weeks. But his mind couldn't conceive any more than what was already on the canvass.
He strode to his chest freezer and grabbed a beer. Maybe that would make him stop thinking so much. He picked up his phone and called the only number he retained by heart.
"Well, if it isn't Leo Da Vinci himself" came the voice. "Hey, did you know I'm yet to get an autograph"
"Good afternoon to you too" Mr. X replied and drank from the bottle
"Yeah yeah. What's up man? I don't get called at 3pm every day. Frankly, I like the credit alerts better" the voice chuckled.
"I need help, man. I want to paint, but I can't get a clear picture in my head." Mr. X drank again. He was way past drunk, but he could still make complete sentences.
"What's the title supposed to be"?
"The Perfect Life"
"If I were you, I'd just paint myself. You're the dream of the rest of us. Your life is perfect. Paint that. And maybe throw my face in there somewhere" he laughed. "I gotta go man. Got a meeting. But we'll catch up when I can come out there, ok"?
"Sure. Take care". Mr. X replaced the receiver and walked back to the canvass. Paint myself, he thought. That would make the worst self portrait ever.
Mr. X was stressed. Everyone thought he had it all. But stripped of his wealth and accolades, his life was no more than the two lines on his still scanty canvass. He walked out of the studio, angry and confused. With only one thought in mind...
-----------------------
He rubbed his eyes. His head ached from staring at his phone so long. But that was his life. He lived for the media. He opned his Instagram and flicked. Nothing here, he thought. Just GOT spoilers.
"Goddamn fans won't shut up" he said out loud.
Then he saw the face, and smiled.
"Man of the decade", he said and tapped "read more" to see the full caption.
He stared wide-eyed in disbelief...
"Millionare painter, Mr. X was found dead in his studio with his wrists slit this morning. A note was found pinned to the canvass he was working on, which simply read,
'I only had two lines, my death's on you'.
The police have begun investigating..."
He dropped his phone and hot tears streamed down his face. His friend would be alive, if he had helped with the painting.
Facebook: Adinoyi Omeiza Nathan
Twitter: @neightan__
IG: @neightan_
Mr. X stood and pondered for the better part of about 40mins. He had his left hand supporting his chin. He tried to make his mind stop reeling, but he couldn't help it.
It had been a struggle to not be able to get a complete image in his mind before putting it on a canvass. And that worried him. What kind of artist, only had the first two lines of a painting for 9 weeks. He was due to turn it in, in another 4 weeks. But his mind couldn't conceive any more than what was already on the canvass.
He strode to his chest freezer and grabbed a beer. Maybe that would make him stop thinking so much. He picked up his phone and called the only number he retained by heart.
"Well, if it isn't Leo Da Vinci himself" came the voice. "Hey, did you know I'm yet to get an autograph"
"Good afternoon to you too" Mr. X replied and drank from the bottle
"Yeah yeah. What's up man? I don't get called at 3pm every day. Frankly, I like the credit alerts better" the voice chuckled.
"I need help, man. I want to paint, but I can't get a clear picture in my head." Mr. X drank again. He was way past drunk, but he could still make complete sentences.
"What's the title supposed to be"?
"The Perfect Life"
"If I were you, I'd just paint myself. You're the dream of the rest of us. Your life is perfect. Paint that. And maybe throw my face in there somewhere" he laughed. "I gotta go man. Got a meeting. But we'll catch up when I can come out there, ok"?
"Sure. Take care". Mr. X replaced the receiver and walked back to the canvass. Paint myself, he thought. That would make the worst self portrait ever.
Mr. X was stressed. Everyone thought he had it all. But stripped of his wealth and accolades, his life was no more than the two lines on his still scanty canvass. He walked out of the studio, angry and confused. With only one thought in mind...
-----------------------
He rubbed his eyes. His head ached from staring at his phone so long. But that was his life. He lived for the media. He opned his Instagram and flicked. Nothing here, he thought. Just GOT spoilers.
"Goddamn fans won't shut up" he said out loud.
Then he saw the face, and smiled.
"Man of the decade", he said and tapped "read more" to see the full caption.
He stared wide-eyed in disbelief...
"Millionare painter, Mr. X was found dead in his studio with his wrists slit this morning. A note was found pinned to the canvass he was working on, which simply read,
'I only had two lines, my death's on you'.
The police have begun investigating..."
He dropped his phone and hot tears streamed down his face. His friend would be alive, if he had helped with the painting.
Facebook: Adinoyi Omeiza Nathan
Twitter: @neightan__
IG: @neightan_
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