Scarlet Eyes and Raven Dies

page twenty

Vincent waded out into June darkness. As he lurched through the dark, he had felt like he was sidestepping needles by a hairbreadth.
Just like his whole life he had been escaping death.
Vincent; eighteen, he should be living a life free.
Instead, he searches for his lost muse.
Somewhere crestfallen and weak, perhaps Peter paved way through town to see his father? Maybe Peter needed closure, he needed his father to know he wasn't a disappointment.

Vernal winds that only appear in June swayed Vincent's gold ringlets left and right. The flit of birds nevermore vivacious; only that in summer. Vincent walked into town without his swain for the first time. The first time he's walked alone. The letter crumpled in his hand. His legs felt frail as he walked through the empty town. He was alone in a town of people who were asleep. He was alone in a word that was busy. Vincent had never realized how deep his isolation really was until Peter left. Vincent wanted to scream and wake up every fool living in the town-houses. He wanted to burn their houses down, he wanted to empty their wine, destroy their wood. But he kept walking in silence while fighting tears from streaming down his face. He was angry at the world and how cruel it treated him. He loved nature and its delicacy, but all he could see now was its demons.
He could only depict trees as devils hovering over ethereal things.
Water as a mirror which only showed his uglies.