Laughter emerged from the center of the modern checkerboard like lobby. A boy, twenty-four, who wore sweatpants with mix matched bright
yellow fabric to patch up the holes. His white top was splattered with a
rainbow of paint blotches and tangle brown hair to match.
This boy was twirling around the New York’s
best police men. They were stumped, dead
ends were all around them and the floor turned into a graveyard.
“This is fun, look everyone, look at what I’ve
done.” The boy, whose name was lost
within his bent mind, shouted with a smile to the dead air. While waving a pistol
around.
The lobby was silent and he stopped.
“No one,” the boy shook his head. This
was the exact reason why he hated the dead. They didn’t realized that it took months to decide that a single bullet was the way to
go, nothing fancy or messy. Though maybe slowly carving them into decorations was
the best way. It was like trying to pick purple or pink paint to start off a
sunset.
However if the days as a painter. Trying to
sell works on the streets in front of the train station. Taught him anything was that no matter what type of art, if it was
a realistic painting of a friend or a bunch of mixed shapes and colours most
people wouldn’t notice.
He looked at the white walls with a smile.
I knew it
would really tie the room together.
Guests from the small unknown hotel generously
donated blood so that the white walls could be repainted with bright
crimson.
He begin to walk over to the front door, while
looking around at the art. Making sure that the memory was burned within his
mind.
The bodies were propped up to make it looked
like they were still alive. Some were paying for a room, while others were
sitting on the couches have a cup of tea. The windows were shattered so that
the morning light would hit the room in the right angle to illuminate the
walls.
The boy wondered what the critics would say
about the latest creation. Maybe there was too much blood on the walls or maybe
the idea of turning the lobby into a dollhouse didn’t sit right with them.
He was starting to think that he should start
over. Yeah, that’s what he was going to do. The hunt to find a white canvases was on and when one was found he
was going to paint it red.
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