Rain smashed relentlessly against the window. Each droplet streamed down the surface and collected on the sill before it shuffled to the side for more to take its place.
A flash. White claws descended from the sky to strike at some object obscured by the buildings. Two seconds later and the building vibrated with a loud “Thoom!” Ripples cascaded across the surface of the milk white tea. Evanescent picked up the cup and sipped at it lightly. The temperature was already unappealing, but it was something to drink. She set down the cup and picked up the size three brush. Another fork should branch off here. With a pair of delicate strokes, She worked in a prong of white branching off to the side. With a quick movement of the hands, she added a blue highlight to the edges. Again, she leaned to the side of the easel and watched as another hand lashed out of the clouds and raked the horizon.
And one more right here. She put the brush down and leaned back.
A landscape of yellow grass dotted with auburn trees stretched before her. Lightning pierced the cloudy veil and licked at the foremost tree in the depiction. Golden flames consumed the branches and danced across the grass. Jets of water flew from the sky to meet the flames in battle, providing balance to the destruction. Behind the easel, a similar situation unfolded before her. The adjacent buildings were matted with rain and water flooded down the street edges to the storm drains. No One was out today. Macduffin had called at six o’clock to tell Evanescent that work had been cancelled for the day. Basil and a couple of the others went to go proof everything from the flash floods, but Evanescent got to stay home today.
Oh, right! Evanescent picked up a high detail brush and dipped it softly into the black acrylic. She whipped out her signature in the rightmost lower corner of the painting. There.
She picked up the canvas and admired her work. She may not be the greatest painter, but she was most certainly satisfied with her creations. She moved to her bedroom, where a towel was already waiting, spread across her body-and-a-half sized bed. She delicately set the canvas face up on the towel to dry. She spent a few more seconds looking at her product, eyes targeting out errors and mistakes. She turned around and took the single step towards her closet. Inside were a number of shoes and hanging garments, with the entire right wall composed of canvases, leaning against the wall. Tornados, lightning, floods, hurricanes, more lightning; every painting had some kind of natural disaster displayed in suspended animation, usually in the middle of yellow grass fields and crimson maple trees. Evanescent picked out a one depicting lightning carving up a golden field. She turned and popped it right next to her freshly entwined one. When it comes to your own art, it will always be worse than everyone else’s, that’s why it is important to compare it to your previous art, because that’s the only level plane you’ll get.
she was less pleased with the outcome after comparison. Her lightning wasn’t as good this time around. She wasn’t sure what it was, but It didn’t have the same quality. It looked hollow, and weak compared to her last attempt. Enfeebled hands trying to dominate resilient lands. That could be a poem.
A few more seconds of critiquing and she was satisfied and picked up her older canvas. At least her fire was looking more alive and lucid.
Evanescent walked back to her living room where she paused and looked around. a few pots and pans were scattered across the foyer area, each with a paper towel folded and placed inside. The irregular drip of water filled the room. Evanescent put all of her painting supplies away and tossed the easel into her second closet. She picked up her tea and moved to stare out the window. The rain was still steady, but there was less thunder. Outside, hardly anyone was walking about. A few people in coats and ponchos would dash across the street, but beyond that, the streets were dead. Then, there was a distant and muffled wailing. Coming from up the street. It sounded as though one of the buildings on this side of Sycamore had been broken into. Evanescent couldn’t see from her angle, but she guessed it was probably the bar. No figures clutching a pinball machine or bags of money came into view though. Evanescent was a bit disappointed. At least she would have something to talk about with the boys.
She looked in the opposite direction, down Sycamore. The General stood stalwart against the inclimate weather. He was staring off, probably watching someone make off with all of the booze. Water flowed down his stone cold face and dripped off of his magnificent beard. Something flashed down in front of Evanescent and jumped in her tea cup. She peered down into the opaque tea and watched as a few small white chunks floated to the surface, bobbing slightly. Again, something dived straight down and landed perfectly in her cup. She looked up, and saw a small eroded crack in the drywall where a droplet of water was hanging in a threatening manner. Evanescent dumped her tea down the sink and watched as bits of sandy white drywall collected in the drain catcher. She grabbed another pan, placed a paper towel in the pan, and set it at the foot of the window. Soon, another series of pings were heard in court with the rest.
