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Street ball
#WritcoStoryChallenge
The painting was yellowed with rounded edges. It was a masterpiece and it was lying in my hand. Wait, have I stolen it? I don't remember... was it a gift, or a walkmate's hand that asked me to hold it for a while.
Above the thought jumbling the source of this artpeice, thinking of what it contained and what it was worth kept me stalled. The sweat around my ear felt cool and warned me not to wipe it off. Sunnier than a while ago my eyebrows caught a tickling itch.
Shifting the painting to my other arm, I went to satisfy my itch with my left thumb but immediately noticed a thread slim line beaneath it reddish brown in colour.
Yeah, it was blood but wasn't hurting. forgetting about the itch, I dropped the painting to examine other fingers and my right hand.
Three minutes later there was no other sign of the red tricle on my hands but the itch caught back my attention. I bent over to pick up the painting checking if anyone was observing behind the bushes of the Bunglow nearby.
with one finger now I have the itch a big strike and a big drop of blood appeared falling onto the painting. Slipping it away, I saved the painting, but now my whole finger was red.
I. Noticed all the tickles on my brows and ear tops was not sweat, but blood. Now I definitely. will open the Painting to remember where it came from.
There was a broken log of wood lying few yards away, which felt like it was what hit me moments ago above my ear.
I had to now look for a Tree or a bench to lean onto as I felt a bunch of veins gettig empty near my shoulders gushing all the blood down to my trembling calfes.
Now before opening the painting, wiped my hand on the back a checked for torn ends of the rolled fabric. It did feel rustic and made inaudible creeks by itself. the yellowed painting was a result of a cumbersome wardrobes at a century old Library a few Lanes across.
The big wax stamp sealing the roll carried the Logo of this Library. Felt exactly like a Galelieo archive right out of the Da Vinci code movie.
Sitting myself with the support of a meagre Bark of one of the swaying trees on the footpath I broke openr he wax seal hoping if it had the Picture of the guy who gave me Forehead a bloody silky scarf.
Crack!!.. The wax scraped off three quarters of the fabric it stuck on to all these year and the painting rolled open on the street.
Three women and a child making the Eldermost lady loom furiously towards him sat on a centre table like Rock with a building in the far left corner. Timothy cove suburbs.. Said a unique shaped wooden plank decorated with Circles of multiple sizes around it.
One of my eye got to closing itself from the heavy drop of blood which which made its way beyond the brows. With the other eye I searched for few more commections in the Painting only to find a Fake but fearful smile on the youngest woman on the painting.
This building in the far background looked quite familiar which I'd seen not of great while ago.. Closing both my eyes and reaching into the pockets of my Jacket searches ng for something to wipe of the reddish hue in my vision, I tried to Recall where this building crossed my sight but the worried woman kept coming into my vision.
Unable to avoid her I looked back into the painting a bit closer into her face which I realised was me with a slimmer nose and hair covered forehed.
"Mom..?" I asked the Lady.. as if she was real.
"Yes.", she smiled back with fear still crawling in her eyeline in my imagination.
I stood up like a stick out of a violinists box and turned around and bent across the tree I was leaning on to. The building in the painting stood right behing me flashing a bright blue light amongst the reddish pink in my eyes.
Our house was being burgled and they threw me out to loock themsleves in..
"Help, Call 911". I yelled to anyone who was within a mile near me. An old man in the bunglow nearby opened his window and signalled "Go Go.!!". looking over the tree towards the street behind me.
Bam!! This time I felt another wood crack against the skull and a stong wiplash on the neck. The three women came closer to me as I fell flat faced upon the painting and dozed off as three more pair of shoes ran over me into my house.
A brocken baseball willow made a few cartwheels after knocking my head for a Homerun.
Few days later I woke up at hospital and my Mom with tears held up in her eyes sobbed into my ears.
"I'm here now champ, there's nothing to fear. Just go to sleep." she said.
I gave her a look, drenched with my tears and hundreds of questions as I had no clue of why the hell I was in a Hospital bed and my chin didn't move when I tried to talk.
With her warm hands on my forehead I just went to sleep hoping she was a telepath.
"Sweet dreams baby*..she whispered.
The painting was yellowed with rounded edges. It was a masterpiece and it was lying in my hand. Wait, have I stolen it? I don't remember... was it a gift, or a walkmate's hand that asked me to hold it for a while.
Above the thought jumbling the source of this artpeice, thinking of what it contained and what it was worth kept me stalled. The sweat around my ear felt cool and warned me not to wipe it off. Sunnier than a while ago my eyebrows caught a tickling itch.
Shifting the painting to my other arm, I went to satisfy my itch with my left thumb but immediately noticed a thread slim line beaneath it reddish brown in colour.
Yeah, it was blood but wasn't hurting. forgetting about the itch, I dropped the painting to examine other fingers and my right hand.
Three minutes later there was no other sign of the red tricle on my hands but the itch caught back my attention. I bent over to pick up the painting checking if anyone was observing behind the bushes of the Bunglow nearby.
with one finger now I have the itch a big strike and a big drop of blood appeared falling onto the painting. Slipping it away, I saved the painting, but now my whole finger was red.
I. Noticed all the tickles on my brows and ear tops was not sweat, but blood. Now I definitely. will open the Painting to remember where it came from.
There was a broken log of wood lying few yards away, which felt like it was what hit me moments ago above my ear.
I had to now look for a Tree or a bench to lean onto as I felt a bunch of veins gettig empty near my shoulders gushing all the blood down to my trembling calfes.
Now before opening the painting, wiped my hand on the back a checked for torn ends of the rolled fabric. It did feel rustic and made inaudible creeks by itself. the yellowed painting was a result of a cumbersome wardrobes at a century old Library a few Lanes across.
The big wax stamp sealing the roll carried the Logo of this Library. Felt exactly like a Galelieo archive right out of the Da Vinci code movie.
Sitting myself with the support of a meagre Bark of one of the swaying trees on the footpath I broke openr he wax seal hoping if it had the Picture of the guy who gave me Forehead a bloody silky scarf.
Crack!!.. The wax scraped off three quarters of the fabric it stuck on to all these year and the painting rolled open on the street.
Three women and a child making the Eldermost lady loom furiously towards him sat on a centre table like Rock with a building in the far left corner. Timothy cove suburbs.. Said a unique shaped wooden plank decorated with Circles of multiple sizes around it.
One of my eye got to closing itself from the heavy drop of blood which which made its way beyond the brows. With the other eye I searched for few more commections in the Painting only to find a Fake but fearful smile on the youngest woman on the painting.
This building in the far background looked quite familiar which I'd seen not of great while ago.. Closing both my eyes and reaching into the pockets of my Jacket searches ng for something to wipe of the reddish hue in my vision, I tried to Recall where this building crossed my sight but the worried woman kept coming into my vision.
Unable to avoid her I looked back into the painting a bit closer into her face which I realised was me with a slimmer nose and hair covered forehed.
"Mom..?" I asked the Lady.. as if she was real.
"Yes.", she smiled back with fear still crawling in her eyeline in my imagination.
I stood up like a stick out of a violinists box and turned around and bent across the tree I was leaning on to. The building in the painting stood right behing me flashing a bright blue light amongst the reddish pink in my eyes.
Our house was being burgled and they threw me out to loock themsleves in..
"Help, Call 911". I yelled to anyone who was within a mile near me. An old man in the bunglow nearby opened his window and signalled "Go Go.!!". looking over the tree towards the street behind me.
Bam!! This time I felt another wood crack against the skull and a stong wiplash on the neck. The three women came closer to me as I fell flat faced upon the painting and dozed off as three more pair of shoes ran over me into my house.
A brocken baseball willow made a few cartwheels after knocking my head for a Homerun.
Few days later I woke up at hospital and my Mom with tears held up in her eyes sobbed into my ears.
"I'm here now champ, there's nothing to fear. Just go to sleep." she said.
I gave her a look, drenched with my tears and hundreds of questions as I had no clue of why the hell I was in a Hospital bed and my chin didn't move when I tried to talk.
With her warm hands on my forehead I just went to sleep hoping she was a telepath.
"Sweet dreams baby*..she whispered.
