Author: AnimotoSaedaX'D PM
Horatio had too many artworks. (this isn't an essay; I hardly ever write one, but there's no where else I could put this in)Rated: Fiction K - English - Words: 379 - Published: 11-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3078276
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The boy artist stared at the rain pattering on his window, chin in hand, thinking of something else to sketch, as his tool of art laid in his hand that was on the table. He sighed through his brown strands of hair over his eyes, and laid down the black-striped yellow pencil topped with a pink eraser, then lazily got up.
His eyes fell on his newly drawn sketch of blown trees lining the side of a road, the rain drops visible everywhere.
Horatio picked it up and admired it from eye level. The whole sketch was, of course, made by his favourite and mastered tool, a pencil. At the bottom left corner was his signature, resembling an 'H' and under it, a scimitar, though reason unknown.
The young artist stopped admiring his work and looked around the walls of his room, wondering where could he put this work, as the wallpaper of his little bedroom were hidden under layers of artworks. The one that surfaced right now was his best sketches and other artworks, yet Horatio doesn't want to cover it.
'Knew sometime that this would happen,' he sighed. His mind replayed a scene of where his mum told him a few days ago, 'Horatio, why don't you sell your artwork? All those papers hanging in your room alone could make a lot of money, never mind the house. I heard that the national art gallery pays a lot of money for one such work.'
His reply that day was, 'Maybe sometime, mum.'
The guy stared at his new work, feeling torn between snagging a little money for himself and his greed of pride of his art skills, wanting to keep the art.
That was when a thunder shook him back to reality, and an idea pop.
'Why don't I sell off all of my old ones?'
A week later, his walls were cleared out, and only around ten artworks scattered around the walls of his room.
There Horatio sat on his bed, his laptop on his laptop, earphones stuck in ears, as he played Battlefield: Online Play-For-Free in it.
His wallet was filled top the brim, sitting on his bed next to him, and contained a credit card with only two coins inside.