Pebble - Portrait*

Last winter uncle came and brought Clea a frame.

In her room, there's a portrait hanging on a wall. Jane passed her the drawing tools. The portrait has been for long. It's done by recollection and was almost in black and white.

In a nightmare, which she remembered even though she had forgotten a few other previous nightmares, she was throwing the medal to it hard. The medal didn't yet go to pieces but the portrait was torn a little.

From the crack of the head and face, she saw the other feather-decorated colourful portrait. The forehead was stuck by the metal fitting she put on the medal to hang.

They were piled up, though she had hanged one in her actual life.

It looked bleeding.

Clea cried,

"How could I do that?"

- parts edited from the longer text on 8th 9, 2004 H.H