The Artist

Today sees the start of the Blogging from A to Z  April 2015 Challenge

He spent each day alone in a shabby studio at the bottom of his overgrown garden. He lost his beloved soul mate some years ago and  was never blessed with children, so he rarely ventured  his empty house.  His studio became his home and sanctuary. There behind closed doors he created works of incredible beauty with paint upon canvas. 

Now and again an admiring collector would call by to claim another piece for their treasured collection. He rarely charged them a thing.

Otherwise the only contact he had with those outside was when his neighbour occasionally shopped for him, or when his supplier called by with his paints brushes and wares.

But one summer’s day he failed to come to the door. It was ajar so his caller peeped inside.

Gone were the paint splattered walls and sombre grey ceiling.

Instead they had become a backdrop for his vision of heaven. Angels adorned the walls; his savior looked down from above. He as a child flew a colourful kite in a silvery blue sky; his flaxen haired sweetheart skipped among spring flowers. His father looked sagely from one corner, whilst his smiling mother knitted in another.

He sat as though peacefully sleeping in his shabby old armchair with brush in hand, and a palette at his feet. Beside him his easel supported a blank canvas.

The artist had departed for a better place.