krechet

Paint Me A Picture



It was, Dean decided, the whitest room he had ever seen. The doctors had ushered him in, one finger pressed against their lips, like it was a secret. Perhaps it was. His mother looked very dark framed against the alabaster pillows, which he found funny. Just yesterday he'd thought she was like snow.



"Come here, Darling. Come sit with me."



Sitting, of course, wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to curl up on the bed with her, wrapped in her arms, forgetting that she was breaking her promise. Forgetting that she was leaving him alone.



"Yes, Mama."



Grabbing the cold, metal chair, he dragged it by the bed, making an obscene screeching noise. The doctors were frowning, but Mama didn't seem to care. He sat down and stared at his once beautiful mother. Really, staring was all he could do.



"Darling," she coughed a little, and the doctors jumped up. She waved them off and continued, "I want you to do something for me."



Dean was surprised. She usually never asked him for anything. After all, he was only six.



"I'd like you to paint me a picture."



"Of what?"



"Anything. But hurry, you have to finish before dark. I want it before I'm gone."



The doctors didn't move. They weren't going to give him any paint to ruin their white room. So, he had to find his own. When he left the room, the doctors rushed to his mother. He let the door slam.



The hospital didn't have any paint for his mama's picture, only paper. So, he took his paper outside with him to the alley behind the hospital. The alley was dark and smelled like the kitchen had that time he'd left the fish on the counter too long. His father had been angry with him. He still had a scar.



There was a little red puddle streaming from something behind a trash bin. Moving the bin, Dean saw a man. He had paint coming out of his side. After tapping him a few times, he decided that the man wouldn't mind if he used his paint. He seemed to be taking a nap.



Placing the paper carefully on the ground, he stuck his fingers in the puddle and began to paint. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just decided to paint what she liked. Like the cat that his father had run over. There was a lot of paint then, too.



After a while, the paint on the ground dried. Dean needed more, so he poked at the place the paint was coming out of with a coat hanger that had been in the trash. It bubbled a bit. He found that if he put the hanger really far in the hole and wiggled it, a lot of paint would come out. So he wiggled it around for a few minutes. It bubbled more.



Finally, he had enough paint. He painted some more things that Mama liked. Like the dentist. Whenever his father had gone out, the dentist would come over. Mama would take him into her bedroom, then put a finger to her lips like the doctors had done before she shut the door. It was another secret.



It was enough, he decided, for now. He poked the hole once more, just to see the paint bubble, then went back into the hospital. When he reached the too-white-room, the doctors were gone. It was just Mama and him.



"I finished, Mama."



Dean just stood next to the bed this time. The doctors had taken his chair.



"It's lovely," she said, inspecting it. "Tell me all about it."



"That's the cat you loved," he said, pointing to the flat looking blob with tire marks. "Only it's after Daddy killed it."



Mama made a small noise in the back of her throat, but then told him to continue.



"That's the dentist. He was our secret, remember?"



"Of course. . ."



There were tears streaming down his mama's cheeks now. Dean frowned.



"Don't you like it?"



"Of course, my darling, it's beautiful." She reached up with her sweaty hands and cupped his face. "Will you promise me something?"



"Yes, Mama."



She licked her lips, glancing around the room, then turned towards him again.



"Promise me that you'll always paint these pictures. Paint our secrets and show them, but never speak a word."



Dean promised, and never spoke again. After a while his mama fell asleep. Dean decided he would need to find some cats. He would need a lot of red paint to paint all of their secrets.



END

Peter Thomas

Oh wow, I want to like this SO much. There are some wonderfully chilling ideas in here, but for some reason I can't quite figure out, it doesn't click with me.

I'd probably choose a different colour description, since alabaster is most commonly associated with stone (more accurately, gypsum), as in the famous 'alabaster jar of perfume' in the bible.

I'm assuming the mother is dying, but I can't imagine a woman being so emotionally blunt like that to a six year old boy.

Ah, good! I liked this bit. Reminds me of when I was in hospital recently, and some friends brought me a kids colouring in book for a bit of fun, but the nurses insisted they didn't have colouring pens.

This is one of the things that doesn't gel, but as I say, I don't know why. Maybe it's just the concept of being beaten up over a fish. I know it happens, but what little narrative of the father I have, it just didn't feel 'real' to me.

gah, once again, I don't know why this doesn't gel! It should send shivers down my spine, and it frustrates me that I don't know why it doesn't. I'd like to be able to offer my thoughts, but I can't. All I could say would be to work with it yourself, and see if there are any other ways you could write it?

Same thing with the Dentist story. I liked the way he associated the doctors with their fingers on lips with his mother's lustful actions, but the story itself didn't quite mesh.

Oh, how I love this ending. I think it's superb. Just superb. Don't change a thing

Overall I really like the piece. It's well constructed with some good (albeit scary) ideas behind it. But maybe look into giving it a 'chill factor'. I think it would really beef this piece up and give it a whole new lease on life.

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krechet

Thanks! I see what you mean about those few sections. I'll tidy uit up a bit and try to send it to you later.

Rejected

Disturbing. Doesn't anybody in these forums make any fairly small stories that aren't about Blood, Sex and Death?

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BookLover

I am sorry for saying this, but, I didn't like it.

One thing - its _not_ my kind of story. So, that could be the reason why I didnt like it so much.

You should have told us more about the boy. Somehow, the character doesn't seem like a six year old! I can't point out what is missing, but thats what I felt when I read the story.

As mentioned before, the Dad part doesn't fit in. Where is he when his wife is dying? You could have added that somewhere.

And why is she dying? If you want to keep it hidden, then its ok.

Yeah, the ending was good.

Chris Miller

I think the story is well written. You've got a little serial killer on the make. But not enough motivation is given for his actions. Finding the dead guy leaking blood in the alley was too coincidental. (Do dead guys continue to leak/bubble blood?) If he was not dead, just comatose, this should be clarified somehow.

It was nice how the mother asked him to paint to shut him up. The ending was almost too strong for the amount of detail given. What other secrets are there?

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gohn67

I thought the ideas were interesting, but didn't really add up. Most of it has been pointed out already though.

Definitly the body is too coincidental. Coincidences are bad. You should avoid those as much as possible. Somehow I wanted it to connect with something, but it doesn't, it's just there as a convient prop.

I wonder if the father is really a bad person?

He did hit him. He ran over the cat, but that could have been an accident.

The mom cheated on him. Maybe she's the bad one.

Also not sure why she wanted him to paint a picture. Didn't really make much sense. Maybe he should have thought of the idea instead.

I really think you got a lot of interesting ideas, except it just doesn't connect together.

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mememe

I love the idea behind this opening, although not the actual construction of it.

Overall, I found it interesting...but possibly more so because of the things you did not include.