thewritertears

[thewritertears]

The Artist

The world is like an empty painting in which once we are born our emotions are the brushes that will fill with colors the painting. One brush in particular glides slowly as rain across the painting. The artist was born with many color set brushes that they themselve would get lost in the maze of wonder.  But slowly as the years flew by like a bird, the artist was slowly losing one by one the majestic brushes. By the time the artist grew to understand the world and its horrendous obstacles, the brushes all had given up in coloring the unfinished artwork. Only one remain wilinging to finish the maze of paintings. The brush had an electric feeling with a hint of remours that when the artist would wake up they would feel as if a huge thunderstorm with heavy rain would crash down on them. The brush observes how slowly the artist would open their eyes and look out the window. A big sigh was heard across the silent deadly room and the brush knew that any minute small droplet would create puddles across the painting. The brush knew that the next artwork would be filled with the color it loved. The room started to become blue as the brushed started to work on the masterpiece it hungerly desire.

Small feather footsteps were appearing on the blue floor which words started to fill as the artist's mind was slowly working. A mirror that the night before once hung with its gorgeous golden frame and its clear glasses became a crime scence with broken emotions. Bloody red eyes emerged from the shadows as memories from last night started to fill the tight space. Memories of a broken artist who once owned many colorful paintings slowly drifted away as new memories of painting filled with puddles of sadness and anger. The bursh slowly started to paint the tight room into a colorful ocean blue to help the painter fight the deadly wordings that was clouding its brain as the brush itself didnt want the artist to suffer more than it was suffering. Slowly a wave of tranqulitiy crashed into the tight room as the paint brush slowly started to notice another painting was slowly coming to the artist painting. Soft delicate hands glided across the messy nest that was on top of the painter and slowly they stared at each other. The brush slowly glided to the other painter's brushes as they welcomed the small brush into the warmth. The artist gently hugged the painter and the tight room started to become a drawing of a bigger room filled with colors and all the emotions in the world. The only paint brush who still helped the artist to draw its majestic life painting slowly transformed into the once lost brushes and the artist learned that our lost emotions are found as long as we the drawer learn to draw our path to lead us back to the root of our happiness.

-Written with colors

[thewritertears]

The White Rose

The coldness from his soft but hard hands made goosebumps arise from my skin. The darkness from the close windows made the house look as if nobody lived here. He held onto my small hands as if he knew I would wander off to explore somewhere I had never seen. He opened a big wooden door which unleashed a golden ray of light which landed on our faces. I let go of his hands and ran with the breeze since I knew where we were. The aroma and beauty of the roses made me wish I was one of them. The envy I have was reckless. He sat down on our spot which was near the hanging lemon tree and signaled me to join him since our lunch was already set up on our spot. The flowers on the ground twirled while I ran towards the spot with a hop in my steps. 

“Nonno will you always love me even if I am at my worst?”, I asked him with a hint of sadness which took him by surprise. He put his delicate hands on my cheeks and his majestic green eyes stared directly towards my gloomy brown eyes. “Until the earth runs out of water and air i will always love you and be with you belladonna”, he said with his husky italian accent which reminded me of my father's voice when he would read me a bedtime story. I giggled at his words since at that time I didn’t understand what he meant until now. My eyes wander off towards the white roses that have a small speck of red on them and I wonder what will happen in the future? But little did I know the future was coming quickly like a lighting bolt. 

I stare at my reflection in the mirror in solitude, while noticing how time itself can change someone's emotions and mentality. That one word….that one word that every soul on this earth uses to express themselves makes the warmth in my heart shed tears. A human would describe the word “love” as something majestic but others would describe it as something suffocating. But if you ask me, I would describe it as a feeling in which you feel as if your soul was like a thread and they slowly kept pulling and pulling until you felt that hollow emptiness. My reflection stared back at me while I did the same but lying on the floor as lifeless humans were the letters of pain. The same letters which my soul would twirl of joy when I would read them but when I read them this time my soul screams in agony. Droplets of blood would be heard as rain banging on a window but instead they are banging on what used to be the body of a joyful rose. My eyes diverted from my reflection towards the ceiling as I slowly fell towards the coldness of the floor in the same tempo as the soulless rose petals started to fall. The once shiny brown eyes that used to carry the happiness of life slowly started to close as they became the lifeless brown eyes that even the devil himself wouldn’t laugh at the mere sight. If you ever seen a 50’s film recorder that would spin once its turn on then that how memories would flood into my screaming mind once the sight of the dark ceiling would disappear into a fading image which would become another image of a girl dancing in her room to the beat of a song that would be playing in the background. The girl would be twirling and leaping across her room as the love song she put on would blast as if the angels from heaven were next to her because of a mere love letter she read which made me giggle because that same letter the girl in the memories had read is the same exact letter that was now burnt as coal thrown onto a winter flame. I slowly open my eyes and haven’t felt the waterfall that was on my pale cheeks. My eyes wandered off to the ceiling again and all that was on my mind was another letter which wasn’t ruined or ripped, especially not burnt. Instead this letter was in another room where the light never goes away and the rose petals never touched the floor. 

With the weight of the world on me I slowly got up. My shadow on the mirror observed how I slowly as a walking dead man went towards the big brown wooden door and pushed it as hard as I pushed these deadly sorrow feelings down to a place that shall never allow it to surface again. The golden ray from the sun crashed onto my eyes as I entered the glorious greenhouse library in which standing as a sculpture god was the one letter who with one flick of his enchanting smile can make any of Lucifer minions run away. He sensed my presence in the room but his attention was on the bundle of rose he was holding. The soft melody of the rose laughter made a soft smile appear on my face. Without moving around, he stretched his hands towards me as I entwined mine with his as yin and yang. Our eyes went towards the laughing bundle of rose who was holding on to his long black raven hair as if it was a silk thread. My mind wandered off towards the mirror and the burnt shred letters that were left on the floor which reminded me of my dark times that still haunts me but I looked towards the letter face and I remember how this letter enchanted words would make me believe that everything would be okay. Those majestic green eyes stared at my gloomy brown eyes but suddenly the only sound in the room was “beep…beep..beep”. Slowly everything started to become all dark and shadows started to appear holding onto my arms as something was chasing after them.

“Beep…beep…be-” with a quiet gasp I realized it was all a dream. The room was cold as winter snow but my body was sweating like if someone put a flame near me. I got up and heard a soft melody voice singing a tune that was hard to understand. That melodic voice made my feet walk towards the kitchen to which the small white bundle of rose was sitting. Her soft brown eyes started at my gloomy brown eyes and she giggled which made the other roses in the room bloom more. I pulled out a chair which made a squeaky sound and sat down. She gave me a white rose with small red dots. The thorns crashed onto my skin and you could hear small red droplets falling onto the table like rain. “It's been a long time since you remember about me.” said the small white rose with a sad tone. “It has been a long time since those brown eyes had a spark in them” I said in a soft tone. She smiled at me and hopped down her seat and took the white rose in her hand and allowed the thorns to crush into her hands. A smile appeared on my face as I lifted her up and hugged her afraid of letting her go. “Always remember that a rose will always bloom even in darkest time as a reminder you are never alone”

Small rain droplets were heard crashing onto the wooden floor as if a thunderstorm was inside the kitchen. The small white rose was shedding tears of joy but also sadness. My hands came into contact with her soft delicate tan cheeks and slowly wiped the droplets away. I stared at the joyful brown eyes and remembered how it felt to be happy without worrying what's gonna happen. I envy how the white bundle of rose has an innocent pure life while I your honor have a life that is filled with demons trying to ruin what is left of my innocence. How I wished to be in the same position of the white rose whose smile can make a dark room come into life but instead I myself have to accept reality for what it is and try to breathe as deeply i can as if it was my last breath. 

On the table there were three things… a drawing of a rose… a stethoscope… and lastly a diary. One may think that it's funny to have those on a table but for me it's a reminder of the scars they left on a pure beating heart. The stethoscope was once used on what used to be nearly dead heart but little did I know that stethoscope would fully kill the heart. At first it looked innocent but as the month went by its true shadows came out making the heart to scream in agony and to hide behind what used to be a heavenly soul. The shadows made the heart shed blood as it knew more and more about the sins of the stethoscope but it ripped into pieces when it knew that it was just a toy… a toy used for when the owner of the stethoscope decided to end the heart life and go onto its next victim craving for more sins. I laughed at the memories of how innocent the heart was in thinking it can change someone but learned that nobody can change someone unless it's pure love.

I slowly put the white rose down as she stared at me with a glossy eye. Weakly I got up and with sorrow I looked at the rose drawing. I didnt realize how heavy my chest felt when I picked up the drawing that once made my pale cheeks turn bright cherry red. I couldnt help but to weakly smile at the thought of the artist behind the deadly masterpiece… the same artist who painted an illusion into my stormy head. I touched the drawing as if it was a knife cutting me open but instead it was a reminder of the same hands who drew this also drew acrossed my body in the middle of the night in silence. Those endless nights in which the artist and I would draw our emotions with lust and passion but in the end those touches were filled with sadness and emptiness. If you were to ask me why I still keep the drawing of a person who took away my youth i wouldnt know what to say… its the mere thought of it that makes me pity my soul which blinded my eyes and brain and making it believe that happiness was found but instead it was my soul who was drowning. “ Who is he?” the white rose asked as she took the drawing of my hand and started with curiosity at the name written on the drawing. I giggled at how innocent she looked. “The illusionist painter”, I said while laughing at her confused expression. “ Illusionist? How can someone like him draw something like us?” “Well the painter drew us as a symbol of the love he had for us but sadly his illusions vanished into the air as mere dust” I couldnt help myself and remember how the painter and I would stay up and plan out the future but all I can say is that not everything can go as planned. I took the drawing from her and took the diary from the table and held her hand and led us out of the kitchen towards the hanging lemon tree. I felt her happiness spread around me as I myself was happy to go back to the place where it all started. She let go of my hands and the white rose pushed the heavy brown doors and the light blinded me for a sec and I smell the winter breeze that was tickling my nose. I can hear the bundle of joy scream in happiness as snowflake falls onto her bouncy brown black curly hair. Before stepping into the light I looked back at the darkness behind me. I looked at white marble floor which held a river of blood that was deeply stained, the celing that held onto the endless thought and wonder, and lastly at the mirror that trapped a reflection of what used to be a dead white rose. With one last glance, I looked away and stepped into the white light.

I looked around my suroundings and noticed how under the winter snow the small flowers still bloom which gave a positive sign that everything will be fine. My eyes caught a sight of long green leaves that held yellow lemons which I smiled happily as I recall the moments nonno and I would sit down under its radiant leaves and talk towards dawn. I couldnt help myself but to chase after the white rose and lift her towards the air and let out a shout of happiness. We ran with the snow to sit under the leaves. I stared at the drawing and sadness washed over me again but the white rose put the dairy I was holding onto my lap and the sadness turned into emptyness as I stared at the diary cover. I took a deep breath and held it in until I couldnt and I exhaled with the small snow that was falling and traced the words on the diary… “ Future White Rose”. I felt soft feather hands touch my rough hands in which I intwin and I notice a pen laying on the grass. “Go ahead dont hold yourself back, it's time to let go” I stared at the white rose as she slowly bloomed into a reflection of me but instead of me holding a pout I was weakly smiling back at myself. I picked the pen as if it was a weightlifter and went back looking at the diary coverpage. 

I kept thinking and thinking, is it worth opening again a book that is filled with all the emotions that I try to hide away in it. The fear I held surprised me because this book was a saviour to me in my deadly sorrow times but now it's like a burden. But in the end, I have to face my fear and accept the emotions and memories this book is holding onto… how each page has a huge amount of weight on them but mostly how this book holds the key to the blooming white rose. I slowly opened the book and traced each page as memories flooded of countless nights of sorrow and countless mornings of happiness. I laughed at the thought of how a small book is able to hold infinite words and emotions but I guess magic is everywhere. With a halt in flipping throught memories pages, my fingers landed on a blank and empty page which is in hunger to be filled with ink made of emotions. I can feel the pen burning into my hand as it's excited to touch on the magical page and mark its wonder. I sit back against the lemon tree trunk as if it would hug me tight and reassure me everything's okay but instead it's the white surroundings that makes me feel that heaven has fallen onto the earth with its angles to hear what new stories of emotions they would fall asleep peacefully hearing too. With the last strand of strength I have I slowly made the pen of emotions touch with the magical paper of the diary. And it all starts with…

    “Dear Future White Rose,....”