Daddy would say that this wouldn’t do. The boy knew this. He felt it in his throat. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He had given up trying. What was he trying though? He only knew that it wasn’t right. He only knew daddy would disapprove. What should it look like after all? He bit the inside of his lip. He felt sparks of pain. He released his lip and breathed. The room felt tight. The windows were confining. The door looked sealed forever. An intimate dread spun webs inside him. He gazed at the canvass. The canvass daddy paid money for. How to explain his lapse in judgement? The brushes like weapons on the floor. They surrounded him so he couldn’t escape. He was imprisoned to the bare canvass. I can’t paint, he whispered.
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1 comment:
An intimate dread spun webs inside him. . . cool. I love how you managed to use short sentences to slow down instead of speed up.
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