07-13-2023, 08:01 PM
Day 5:
Evelyn woke early in the guest room. She hadn’t spoken to Tom since their dining room
interaction the day before. She goes to the kitchen, makes herself some coffee, then proceeds
to the hobby room and seats herself on a folding wooden chair.
Her art supplies take up most of the space in one corner. She sits and stares out a window
for the better part of half an hour before she hears stirrings from up the hall.
The coffee gone, she sets her cup down on a small end table and walks over to the easel.
A fresh blank canvas. She picks up a brush and allows her mind to wander. Moments later, she
senses him standing in the doorway.
“How are you feeling today?” Tom asks quietly.
Evelyn stands with her back to him, rolls her eyes and makes him wait several seconds for a reply.
“Fine.”
He takes a few steps into the room, maintaining a generous distance. She’s looking through her
collection of acrylic paints.
“It’s good to see you getting back to your art.”
Evelyn sets a handful of tubes aside and picks up her palette - still facing away from Tom.
“Can we talk about this?” he asks.
She dips her brush into some bright red paint, ignoring him.
“Hey!” he fires at her.
Evelyn lays rich streaks of color onto the canvas. Tom storms over and grabs the brush from her hand.
“I need you to talk to me!” he shouts.
She whips around in a fury.
“Why? You won’t like anything I have to say!”
They stand facing each other without a connecting bridge.
“You’re crumbling. You need help.”
“I need my brush back.”
Tom deflates. His eyes worried and weary. Hers - angered and unapologetic. He throws her
paintbrush across the room and almost in the same motion is throttled backwards several
steps - but not by Evelyn’s hand.
He looks around, turns to leave when she takes hold of his throat and lifts him off the ground.
His eyes now bulge with fright and confusion. Hers - darkened, possessed.
A low hum envelopes the room, Tom struggles to breathe. Evelyn overtaken by something unseen -
her face twisted into a grotesque manifestation of otherness. She drops him to the floor.
She thrashes about - ripping things from the walls, tearing down furnishings. Tom tries to grab
hold of her but she swipes at him with her arm - sending him across the room. Windows shatter
in unison with shards hurtling through the air.
The room is pulsing with rage.
After those frenzied few minutes, a calm washes over - Tom sitting on the floor, leaning against
the wall. Evelyn crumpled in the corner, sobbing.
Tom crawls to her and places his hand on her shoulder - she screams. He lays down and puts
his arms around her.
https://imgur.com/THxywUL
"A Most Violent Turn" - Fourth in the five-part series 'Unseen'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 124th painting.
Evelyn woke early in the guest room. She hadn’t spoken to Tom since their dining room
interaction the day before. She goes to the kitchen, makes herself some coffee, then proceeds
to the hobby room and seats herself on a folding wooden chair.
Her art supplies take up most of the space in one corner. She sits and stares out a window
for the better part of half an hour before she hears stirrings from up the hall.
The coffee gone, she sets her cup down on a small end table and walks over to the easel.
A fresh blank canvas. She picks up a brush and allows her mind to wander. Moments later, she
senses him standing in the doorway.
“How are you feeling today?” Tom asks quietly.
Evelyn stands with her back to him, rolls her eyes and makes him wait several seconds for a reply.
“Fine.”
He takes a few steps into the room, maintaining a generous distance. She’s looking through her
collection of acrylic paints.
“It’s good to see you getting back to your art.”
Evelyn sets a handful of tubes aside and picks up her palette - still facing away from Tom.
“Can we talk about this?” he asks.
She dips her brush into some bright red paint, ignoring him.
“Hey!” he fires at her.
Evelyn lays rich streaks of color onto the canvas. Tom storms over and grabs the brush from her hand.
“I need you to talk to me!” he shouts.
She whips around in a fury.
“Why? You won’t like anything I have to say!”
They stand facing each other without a connecting bridge.
“You’re crumbling. You need help.”
“I need my brush back.”
Tom deflates. His eyes worried and weary. Hers - angered and unapologetic. He throws her
paintbrush across the room and almost in the same motion is throttled backwards several
steps - but not by Evelyn’s hand.
He looks around, turns to leave when she takes hold of his throat and lifts him off the ground.
His eyes now bulge with fright and confusion. Hers - darkened, possessed.
A low hum envelopes the room, Tom struggles to breathe. Evelyn overtaken by something unseen -
her face twisted into a grotesque manifestation of otherness. She drops him to the floor.
She thrashes about - ripping things from the walls, tearing down furnishings. Tom tries to grab
hold of her but she swipes at him with her arm - sending him across the room. Windows shatter
in unison with shards hurtling through the air.
The room is pulsing with rage.
After those frenzied few minutes, a calm washes over - Tom sitting on the floor, leaning against
the wall. Evelyn crumpled in the corner, sobbing.
Tom crawls to her and places his hand on her shoulder - she screams. He lays down and puts
his arms around her.
https://imgur.com/THxywUL
"A Most Violent Turn" - Fourth in the five-part series 'Unseen'.
Mixed media on plywood. My 124th painting.
