FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
In the year that King Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne,
high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphims: each had six wings...
(Isaiah 6:1-2)
Epilogue
With a contented sigh Lucien closed his shop and began to walk up the hill. He took his usual position on the cliff top and began to paint. The sun was just setting behind him and he smiled as he mixed a golden colour in his palette. His portrait was of a girl with golden hair, sea green eyes and six wings.
He turned as a twig snapped behind him. An old man, leaning on a walking stick was climbing the hill.
“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I didn’t mean to startle you, son.”
“That’s alright, sir,” Lucien replied as the man drew closer. “Would you like to join me?”
“I certainly would, thank you,” said the man sitting on the bench beside him. “You’re the young man who has recently opened the art shop, aren’t you?” asked the man.
“Yes, sir.”
“I hear your good with portraits.”
“I suppose I am.”
“I was hoping you would paint one of my granddaughter. It would have to be from a photograph, I’m afraid she passed away a year ago.”
“I’d gladly paint one for you, sir,” Lucien replied solemnly.
“Thank you. I’m Richard Hobbs, by the way.”
“Pleased to meet you, I’m Lucien O’Neil,” Lucien replied, taking the mans offered hand.
“Can I see what you painting, Lucien,” Richard asked.
Lucien held up his painting. The old man gasped and took the painting. “Who is that?” he cried. “Where did you see her?” Startled Lucien did not know how to answer. “I’m sorry,” Richard said, quietly. “I did not mean to frighten you, son. But this is my granddaughter. Her name was Sophia Hobbs.”
“Well, sir,” Lucien replied, “I can now tell you that I saw her here on this hill three months ago.”
“But she is dead,” explained the old man in confusion. “She couldn’t have been real.”
Lucien laughed. “She was very much real, sir, though I’m not sure she was human. She arrived like a whirlwind and had so much energy that she kept me on my toes the whole time.”
Richard laughed. “She always did have more energy than she knew what to do with.”
“She used it to teach me how to reach for the stars,” replied the young artist.
Lucien explained how he had met Sophia Hobbs on the cliff and how she had disappeared into the sun. He told of how she had taught him to talk, to pray and to yell. His eyes lit sparkled and his face lit up in a smile as he re-enacted Sophia jumping to her feet, her arms thrown back, her head pointing towards the heavens and yelling for all she was worth.
Richard laughed softly and nodded. “Aye,” he said quietly. “That’s our Sophia.”
Lucien turned to the old man, his face sober. “I am very thankful for your granddaughter, sir,” he said respectfully. “She saved my life.”