Linda
Linda is the artist.
She has long fingers and clear eyes.
She paints, she draws, makes light and shadow into paper.
She paints a mural on her wall one day, before a week is gone by the paint peels from humidity, making shadows on her room by evening.
Tall trees and the sounds of the forest, yellow bright eyes of the fauna, the cicadas sing from under her pillow.
"You don't contain mother nature"
Her landscape design teacher tells her after class, noticing the fluttering of her chest, fast shallow breaths and the heat on her cheeks.
The signs and symptoms of a novice.
Her teacher is a middle age woman with too many wrinkles, always seen in somber colours, wears bracelets with symbols on them and knows of balance and symmetry and destruction alike.
She ditches the class, destroys what is left of the mural with the wrath of the sky as the only sound on her head.
She paints portraits, the faces of the people she knows by heart, and the ones she discovers. She draws building and arches and admires the angles that reflect the light and the corners that hide from it, she tries to imitate it but the angles are forces to be reckoned on their own.
She knows the warnings by now.
She takes to the garden. Sits at the end of a green covered path, over her head, crunching on the soles of her shoes.
The flowers are still and bright, the wind makes no rush, no sound through this place.
The earth beneath her rumbles and roars.
She knows not to move.
So, we've come to the end, thanks for everyone who read it most sincerely, it means the world to little old me.
Moonflower, angel's trumpet, or datura is a type of flower that is really really pretty but horribly poisonous and cause anticholinergic symptoms and hallucinations, even death. Awful stuff.
Hauntings or pretty flower poisoning, we may never know.
Again, thank you all for bearing with me, love and kisses to ya'll.