I have chosen to focus on the painting-aspect of the image. The man in the painting just so happens to be the narrator.
Inspired by a movie…
She loved to paint. She could sit there all day with a canvas propped up on an easel and brushes and paint and you would go about your daily business. By the time you’re finished, a complete painting of you working would be waiting for you. I’ve seen it happen.
Another thing she’s got, photographic memory. I don’t have to stand all day posing. I often told her, “You can be so much more than an artist.”
But, an artist was all she ever wanted to be. “It’s my dream, daddy,” she said to me once, “It’s what I do best.”
What can I do but smile. “Well, you just go do what you do best, you hear, sweet-pea?”
All I ever wanted was for her to be happy. That day, I didn’t know the storm would be so strong that it would rip her from me. I didn’t know she would still be up in her room collecting her paint set. I tried to get her but the wind was too strong and she fell with the house.
(~175 Words)
What a lovely story with such a sad ending. That is really sad that the storm was her demise. As I was reading I could easily picture the scene. It was very enjoyable (minus the sad ending. lol!) I have one correction Yinglan, in the last paragraph, “That day, I didn’t know the storm would be so strong that it would ‘rip’ her from me.” Thank you for participating in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge.
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Thank you. This story reminds me of the Wizard of Oz without the happy ending.
Yes, that last sentence was trouble. I’ve rewritten that sentence five times before I was happy with it, just moving words around along with adding and deleting words. The word “ripped” was always in there, guess I forgot to change the tense on that last try. Thank you for pointing that out.
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I understand. When we work with something so much, we start seeing things as being right when they are not. I have that problem too.
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Oh no, what a sad and touching turn that tale took. But I felt glad that he had those happy memories of her, and her paintings left behind, too.
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Sad ending
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Good story. I felt the love of the father intensely, and therefore his loss.
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Thank you.
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That’s very sad. I guess it was good she painted when she did, if she wasn’t going to live much longer.
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Such an understanding father. Such a sad ending.
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That is so sad. I am sure he treasures all her paintings.
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Oh a sad story nicely told.
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