Black Rhapsody

—an excerpt—

“Hough, what are you thinking about?” asked Kate, his sister, as she stepped back from her canvas and looked at it. Kate has been in one of her silent moods lately; she usually doesn't ask any questions at times like these. He really thought she was improving after she graduated with her Bachelor of Fine Arts, but she isn't any different than she was. She started painting on black canvases instead of white ones. She worked on the surfaces with quinacridone crimson, shaded ultra marine blue. Her work turned black when Wendy died at the end of Kate’s second year at university.

“Mari Lisa,” Hough said.

“Who is that? I didn't think you had a girl right now.”

“You know, Mari Lisa, from Hinton.” The small town they grew up in with the Rocky

Mountains to the west. They were in the foothills, the cool breezes in summer and the chinook winds from the west coast blowing through the mountains that melted the snow deep in winter.

Kate stepped forward and began painting the canvass again. She worked with no lines marking her face. This was the way she had been for several years now. She would be silent unless Hough prompted her.

“You remember,” Hough pleaded. She acted as if the placement of more black and dark blue paint on her canvass was more important than what Hough said. “You remember that way she used to take off running when her mother wanted her to do anything around the house. We would hear a loud yell, a scream, but see nothing for a moment, then, Mari Lisa would come running down their driveway and her mother would be right behind?”

They used to say that if Mari Lisa could make it to the sidewalk she would have made it, but it was always those first few steps that were dangerous. Mari Lisa could stumble on her shoes that she hadn't quite got on, or sometimes the breeze would lift her jacket to her mother’s hand.

Kate remained silent as Hough told her about it. She used to love those days. There was an excuse to go to the playground; a chance to run down the streets and not tell anyone. Moments of freedom. Hough listened to the quiet hissing sound of the brush applying acrylic paint.