75

~Lianna Black~

“Dad?” taking careful steps down the narrow staircase, I announced my presence. From one corner of the area, warm light met my eyes, and the faint smell of an old storage room mixed with scents of enamel and acrylic paints. “Dad?”

As I reached the end of the stairs, I looked around and saw every furniture covered with white cloth. A bed rest on one side, few dusty books placed untidily on the shelves, and the huge lonely form of my father met my gaze. He was sitting in front of an easel. His shoulders gently roll up and down in sync with his hands, moving the brush on the bare canvas.

“Dad,” I placed my hands on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, but his hands stopped from moving gracefully.

The canvas was painted with black and blue stormy colors. Both dark shades from two colors occupy the opposing side of the canvas. Lighter shades dance around the darker one. A fight for dominance, light and dark s