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Peacock Feathers
Author:
Crystal Zephyr PM
An artist wanders amidst her exhibition, new on the scene and as much a stranger as any of the guests. The title is the name of her favourite piece. Enjoy.
Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy - Words: 412 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 03-18-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2786832
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I wander around the dimmed room, a dozen spotlights on my works. The gallery owner implored me to wear a suit, but I politely declined. Instead I float around the room in layers of green chiffon, my fiery locks tied in a cream ribbon. A man, a businessman, stands before my highlight. Not the chosen centrepiece of the exhibition, of course, but my person favourite. A little abstract; a little fantasy. A porcelain skinned woman blending her skin with peacock feathers on a background of green and violet swirls. I drift over to him and he turns his head to greet me. I'm new, he doesn't know I'm the power behind everything in this room.

- Have you seen this piece?
- Yes, I have. What do you make of it?
- I love it. It speaks to me so much more than the rest of the collection.
- Really? In what way?
- This woman, she reminds me of my sister.
- I thought I read it was painted in the artist's image.
- I know. It just reminds me of her. Living in a fantasy world to escape the cruel reality.
- Cruel reality.
- My sister died of a drug overdose two years ago.
- How awful.
- Mm. LSD, it was. She believed the world that it created was more real than this one.
- They're one and the same.
- Oh? What makes you say so?
- Colours, shapes, symbols. Thoughts, ideas. Anything can be real if you want it to be.
- That is very profound.
- I've been told I come out with intellectual things every so often.
- Then it's convenient that you timed a wise comment with a first impression.
- I quite agree. Usually I come across as reclusive or dreamy.
- You do. But wise in your own way too.
- Well. Thank you?
- Quite welcome. Now, excuse me, but I must go and find either the artist or the owner.
- Oh?
- I think I may purchase this piece.
- For the memory of your sister?
- For the memory of my sister.
- The gallery owner is the man in the grey suit and navy cravat.
- Thank you, I shall talk to him now.
- Good. Tell him Kathy said he isn't to sell it to you for a penny over four thousand.
- But it's priced at six?
- Well, it's a good job you made a good first impression too.

And then I smile, touch my hand lightly to his shoulder and walk away.

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