Dean Lewis's song started to play, I kept my eyes shut as I was sure it was still night and the sun wasn't up again. Who on earth would call me at this time? I thought. I clicked on the green icon after struggling to read the name on the screen.
"hello." I say and all I hear is screaming, "WHAT?" I sleep-shout.
"it's the.. the art lounge," the man shouted, "everything is... burning, are you miss Moore? It's written here, you had an exhibition in the art lounge."
You know when your body wants to move, but your brain is still the one that wouldn't get it. The time where you know you need to run and your legs and your whole body is ready for it, but your brain never gives the order. I pry it's just a prank call or some drunk dude playing games on me. However, the man on the phone says his name at the end and that he's a policeman.
"I'll be there." Is all my tongue managed to say. I grabbed my keys and threw my phone, I hear it crashing and I continue toward the door.
*
I saw Andie and other people standing there, watching quietly as the red flames eat everything. Andie is the first to notice me with her teary eyes, she walks to me and I ignore her, ignore the policemen, ignore them all.
"it's dangerous, don't you dare do it!" I could hear my brain yell, but my legs were faster, I ran toward the glass door. I could hear their footsteps behind me, trying to stop me, but once I'm in they stop and wait.
The white silky sheets were now a fuel for the red flames. I once was asked in an interview, "if you were to lose every piece you ever made except one, which once you will choose?".
My answer was, "I don't favour one over the other." I lied.
My legs took me toward the painting of the 'girl in a box'. The face of the little girl was no longer there. The vibrant colours now were muddy and sad.
The flames were getting bigger and bigger, I rest my left hand on the girl's face, covering it.
"NO!" I cry as the whole wall-sized painting goes down covering me in flames.
*
'A girl in A box'
A black and white background filled with people in black. The little girl hid her tiny body in the small wooden box. It was her happy space, she could be whoever she wants, whenever she wants, she doesn't have to fake a smile, or lie. She was just, Emma. Simple Emma.
YOU ARE READING
where we belong
RomanceEmma Moore, an artist who her art lack feelings and life, loses everything she once loved. Her home, her family and her art. she finds herself in the mountains lost and struggling with an injured hand and soul. where we belong? is the question Emma...
