Passion on paper [H.S] (Slow Updates)

Chapter 1

Hello everyone this is my first time translating well i've read the arabic version and i was amazed by the story because i have written something a bit close of the idea of this one so i'd like to thank the original writer for her great patience with me and the massive help that she gave me thank you so much for letting me translate it too love you 

"Rosalinda Maurice" the skinny girl called.

I got my headphones off, lifted my bag and followed her to the office.

"Miss Maurice, come on in" said Mr. Harvard who seemed like a fifty years old man.

I sat on the chair facing him.

"Your paintings are beautiful" he said smiling as he petted his gray bear with the tips of his fingers.

I smiled.

"But.." he said again

This made my smile fade away.

"Nothing special" he simply said

"What do you mean" I asked.

He stood up went to the racks and pulled out a thick tome.

"This is what I mean" he said as he put the painting from the tome on the desk.

I looked into them impatiently and curiously, I wanted to know what's wrong with my paintings?

"I didn't understand" I said finally.

"Look here these paintings are for 'Gina Lyudin' she's known for her well and precise description for the nature's details, that's what makes her different and special for everyone." He said raising one of the paintings which holds an orchid overlapped with a tulip in a magical way.

Then he put that one down and lifted another painting.

"And here, 'Kalina Theodore', she's known for drawing unanimated antique objects, you'll always find that antique imprint in her paintings" he said to me.

Then he put down the tablet.

"And you. Miss Maurice what makes your paintings special? I didn't see anything in them" he sincerely said while he pushed his glasses to the edge of his nose and looked at me.

"You mean you won't put my tablets in the gallery?" I asked sadly.

"No, I'm sorry" he responded quietly and sat back on his chair again.

I stood up and went to the door bitterly.

"Miss Maurice..." Mr. Harvard called.

I turned to him.

"The gallery is three months away, I will give you until the next week to try again, I will wait for you" he said smiling which made hope for me again.

"Thank you, I will try my best!" I said smiling then went out of his office.

That period was not long enough for me but, this gallery is very important to me and I need to try hard for it.

I went back home, to find my husband waiting for me on the couch as always.

"Welcome home Loca" he said laughing.

"Don't call me Loca Dave" I said acting angry.

'Loca is an old nickname that my family used to called me with and it's an abbreviation of "Loca pentor" which means crazy painter in Spanish'.

"What happened Rose you seem pale" he said as I sat beside him.

"My painting didn't get in" I said sadly.

"It's okay darling there are a lot of other opportunities" he said comforting tone while rubbing my back gently.

"Really? Like what?" I asked sarcastically.

"Like the talents festival" he proudly said.

"Are you kidding? That's for kids do I look like I'm five to you??" I said surprised.

"Lo.. I mean Rose, calm down, the opportunity will come when the time is right; maybe this gallery show is not meant for you" he quietly said.

"Forget it, I'm going to cook lunch" I said and stood up from the couch.

And from that moment I started thinking what would make me special.

I spent three days thinking about it, I went to the park to have some inspiration and its pointless.

I watched kids, listened to music, watched the rain drops on the windows, went to coffee shops, I saw sunset and it's no use!

I have only four days left and I still didn't figure out a proper idea.

I made a cup of coffee and starting gazing my white empty tablet in front of me.

I started and drawing and changed it, draw, change, draw, change...

Until I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to find a man starring at me; I can't see him very well it seemed vague and unclear the only thing that was apparent like the sun was his eyes...

His eyes were green like dark forests it had a glitter full of emotions.

I opened my eyes when my head hit my hands on the desk.

Was my sleep deep? Was that a dream?

"What happened" Dave asked as he opened the door of my workshop.

"I fell asleep and my head hit the desk" I responded.

"Rest now and finish painting tomorrow" he said smiling and held my cup of coffee to wash it for me.

I went to my bed and fell in a heavy sleep.

I woke up in the morning as usual, prepared breakfast and helped Dave get ready for work.

During all of that there was only one picture stuck in my head.

The picture of the guy's eyes I dreamed of last night.

I couldn't stand my urgent desire to draw them.

I went up to my workshop and I started drawing, and because I remember nothing but his eyes so I only drew them.. no face no nose nothing but his eyes.

The strange thing is I'm not good at drawing human features, because I'm used to draw nature and other things that surround me, I tried a lot to draw the human features before and I failed.

But his eyes were good; I drew them as if they were real as if they look at you through the painting.

And I found myself too drowned in drawing his eyes, coloring them and contemplating them until I woke up on the sound of Dave coming back home from work.