Author: MyFriendIsADork PM
A short story about a girl and her passionRated: Fiction K+ - English - Tragedy - Words: 359 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 04-18-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2798109
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The room was bright with the golden sunlight streaming in through the windows but despite this the room still looked musty and dark. The wooden floorboards would creak as you walked by no matter how softly or carefully you tread which is part of the reason she felt so safe here. The room was bare except for a stool and a half painted canvas sitting near one of the windows furthest from the decrepit wooden door. Scattered around these things were her most prized possesions, her finished paintings and her many art supplies. Perched atop the stool a young woman sat, biting the end of her paintbrush as she examined the half finished image of a lily in full bloom, she would eventually back it with a landscape perhaps, but first she must get the flower just right.
Sierra's bright green eyes and red hair stood out against her creamy white skin and paint splattered her faded jeans and old green t-shirt but she didn't care, not yet anyways, her mother would scold her for it later, but Sierra was used to that. She brushed her copper colored hair out of her eyes, though she tried to keep it out of her way by pulling it back into a ponytail, a few wayward curls always escaped. She was totally absorbed in her painting uncaring or unaware of the rest of the world for she knew her floorboards would warn her if someone entered the room. As she took the paintbrush from her mouth and began to paint once again her silver charm bracelet caught the light creating pin points of light on the other side of the room brightening the dull beige walls. The bracelet was decorated with small charms given to her every year for her birthday from her father. She cherished the bracelet especially since this year she would not get another charm for the beautiful chain. Of late Sierra had retreated even further into her artwork only leaving it when forced to eat and sleep and go to class. Since her father's death nothing had mattered but this, her passion, her art.