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Nope, I’m not gone yet! I’ve just had a very lack of motivation and inspiration to write anything, but now, finally, I threw something together. At first I wanted to name it “The sinners” but it felt like I wouldn’t be able to avoid religion or things that could be connected to it, so I went for something else. Thereof, not what I was thinking of writing but it’s something. Something bad, haha.

~Trivia~
Words: 349
Date: 01/08 – 12

Through twisted eyes

He drew a painting that covered his entire wall. A painting so full of colors and life. In it was his life, his dreams and his hopes. All that made the man him were in the painting. The colors vibrated through the air, almost as if they changed shape every time the man looked at it. He had shown the rest of the village his art. The fear that filled their eyes, the colors which almost took their sanity away. The man didn’t understand, “could they not see the beauty?” he wondered.

The village shunned him, accused him for using black magic, for contracting the devil and the likes. What they saw wasn’t the same as him, that much he had figured out. But what was the problem? It was his greatest piece, how could someone not understand the value in his art?

The days passed one by one, their shunning continued, leaving the man to become a frail person. His mansion started growing with weed, the wild flowers and grass took root in his house. But the wall with the painting would not get dirty. Nothing could stop it from showing the truth. The man pondered on and on what it could be that the villagers saw. He simply could not understand.

It wasn’t until he was near death that he understood what he had created. The painting was indeed special, almost magical. But it was dark, so very very dark. He had not understood that what he had drawn on his wall was indeed his life, his dreams and his hopes. All in a twisted dark form. All of them would be what the man would have wanted to hide the most. It was not the villagers who were wrong, it was him. He who had looked at his art with warped and twisted eyes. He who did not see the truth, until the very end. The truth that he wanted to bury, throughout his life. The truth that he now would never be able to hide. The sins he’d pass away with, never forgotten, never forgiven.

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