“Would you
like to buy a vowel?”
John
Kramer, Saw* #quote
Today I
researched the floor. My conclusion is that it is flat. This is a
leap forward for science. Anyway onto the flash fiction!
The Painter
Of The Envied
Clemont
worked as a painter. A difficult thing to make a living at. He did so
not by making art that hung galleries and creating a name for
himself. None of his art came from his imagination. Every piece he
did was commission.
He painted
families in the most high quality he could, which proved to be a very
high quality that wowed his customers and made him recommended to
others. He worked for the upper class, though the time it took him to
make his work forced his income to make him middle class during his
best years.
His work took
him to homes filled with wealth far beyond his grasp. Large, happy,
smiling families that were photographed with an incredibly expensive
camera(which also cut into his living expenses, as well as other
things needed for the shoot) to make a reference picture. The
reference picture would be used for the long time it would take him
to make a painting. Along with the wealth, Clemont also didn't have a
family of his own. Distant from most of it, and as he aged many died.
Yet despite all
that envy did not consume Clemont's soul. He looked out his window to
see the bright sun, and read books by it just fine, or just as easily
by the lamp by his bedside. A walk through the park to get a breath
of fresh air out of his studio and sit on his couch to watch
television.
Clemont lived
happily no matter who surrounded him.
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