I stand on the beach and watch the waves move in and out. Slow. Rhythmic. Usually calming, but not today. I clutch the papers I hold in my hands. Precious drawings, and also horrible memories, from a past long gone. The wind pushes past me and I open my hands, letting the papers follow the wind and drift into the sea, gently washing the strokes of graphite away. Soon the paper will crumble. The sea would normally give me a sense of ease, but not today.
Once upon a time there was a little girl whose mother paid an artist to paint a portrait of her only daughter. The little girl was shy around people (especially men), and when the artist got there she would not leave her mother's side. Soon the mother left the artist to do his work, and he was all alone with the little girl. She trembled behind a chair and would not look him in the eye.
The artist looked out the window and saw a patch of dandelions that had gone to seed in the window box. He gently picked the flowers and held them out to the girl, smiling. The little girl sneezed, sending the seeds everywhere. She cautiously looked at the artist and began to laugh when she saw that he was smiling.
Next, he showed her how he painted with a brush and some ink. He held the brush out for the girl to try, and to his surprise she took the paint brush to his face! The surprised look scared the child, and she was visibly uneasy. The artist looked at her, cracked a smile, and laughed, just like she had minutes before.
He picked the girl up and sat her on his lap. He asked in a voice as soft as silk if she would like to watch him paint, and the girl nodded. He drew her a picture if the dandelions that had been in the window box. They sat there for hours, teaching the girl how to paint. It was through him that she found her love of art.
Eventually the girl's mother hired the artist to be the girl's art teacher. Unbeknownst to each other, as the girl grew older and became a woman, they had fallen in love. One day the girl's father came into great debt with the mafia, and in order to pay it off he had agreed to let the debt owner marry his only daughter. The girl, who was now a woman of marriageable age, was scared of the man she was to marry. The woman often sat alone thinking about the man she really loved, the artist.
One day the artist came to her door with flowers to congratulate her on her betrothal. He gave her the flowers and intended to be on his way. The woman wouldn't need an art teacher anymore, she would be too busy with her new husband. He was surprised when the woman ran after him, grabbing his sleeve and begging him not to go. Not to leave her.
He didn't understand. She wanted him to stay? But she wouldn't have any time for him any longer! Then he realized the truth. She had the very same feelings for him as he did for her. He took the flowers out of her hands and threw them to the ground, then held his hand out to her. She could come with him, and they would be happy. The loved each other. They could run away and marry, and live happily ever after, like the fairy tales. The woman smiled through her tears and grabbed his hand.
The happy couple didn't see the fiancé of the woman, sitting in his car. He had seen the whole thing, and he knew what was going on. The fiancé lept out of his car, drew a gun, and aimed for the artist's chest.
The artist and the woman, still not noticing the fiancé, were making plans to run away. Suddenly the artist pulled an old, folded up paper out of his coat pocket. He gingerly unfolded it, afraid that it would fall to pieces because it was so worn, and showed the woman. It was the picture of the dandelions that he had drawn her, the day they meet. The woman smiled and looked up.
That was when she saw the fiancé. He was shooting the gun.