With an exasperated string of words, Nolan jumped to his feet and stormed towards the front door. The ringing was persistent and looked like whoever it was outside wouldn't let him have a Sunday morning slide in peace.
He had returned here after a year and the house was kept in pristine condition by the cleaners who would come in at regular intervals. Who could be visiting him at his farmhouse when he had told no one about his month long retreat? His getaway from a stress-filled city life and a job that sucked the life out of him was a plan he confided in no one.
Upon opening the door in one swift swing, he found a package wrapped in a simple brown paper lying outside with his address and a ‘Welcome Home’ card pasted on it. He carried it inside and wondered what could be inside and who would send him a homecoming gift.
The contents revealed an easel, a canvas, a branded box of paints, palettes and paintbrushes of every type and size. Nolan's eyes shone with delight at this sweet surprise and longed to know who would send him quality products of his favourite hobby which he no longer pursued.
Maybe this retreat was a sign to really live up to his hiatus and go back to one's roots, to rediscover oneself. He was beside himself with joy and regretted fuming intensely a few minutes earlier. He spread out all the paraphernalia on a worktable and set the canvas up on the easel. A soft breeze ruffled the sheer curtains and a faint whiff of violets floated in.
Nolan was too engrossed to take notice of his surroundings when a scrap of paper fluttered and slid to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, he glanced at the single handwritten line which read—”To hold you forever in my gaze. The first reference picture is on the house. Enjoy painting.”
The cryptic message made no sense to him and he laughed it off as an advertisement gimmick. The brochure had a single sheet of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. As blue as violets.
He set about blending in the right amount of tints to get an exact replica of this endearing shade when something stirred in his memory. His quickly dismissed the thought and swirled the colors around.
The soft breeze rustled a bit strongly and the curtains billowed, knocking down a vase. It shattered into smithereens, but the crash seemed to fall on deaf ears.
The canvas saw long lashes sweeping a pair eyes set in a heart shaped face, a vulnerable smile and raven black locks. Nolan was perspiring profusely and his heart raced even as his hands seemed to move on their own accord. Panicking, he tried to will his mind to stop but an unseen energy had taken over his movements.
He clutched the canvas with his left hand and gasped for breath, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. But his right hand was dipping a paintbrush in the violet smudge on the palette and was gliding across the canvas to color the eyes. His lips twitched and tried to protest but no sound emanated out of them. The wind was now blustery, dancing with a wail which terrified him
Something wasn't right!
The face was all coloured in by now and a faint recognition set in.
Violet.. accidental death…food allergy…
Except that it wasn't…Nolan had sprinkled nut powder into her salad bowl and had watched impassively as her life had painfully ebbed away. She was going to expose his embezzlement of company funds which he had so cleverly engineered. His assets, cars, this farmhouse was at stake if his name had gotten out.
But what was happening at this moment! Is this some witchcraft? Someone playing mind games?
He seemed to be paralyzed except for his right hand which was moving at an unusually rapid pace. The brush clattered to the floor and rolled under a couch.
”Look into my eyes”, the breeze whispered.
And Nolan stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized, looking at a masterpiece on the canvas, a prisoner in the stony violet gaze.
©️ Sangeetha Kamath
Pic Courtesy: Asian Literary Society
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