Entry to this week’s Friday Fictioners at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
Little Jane walked the run of the fence. Its metallic rails felt like prison bars that forbade insight. “Mommy, Mommy. What lies on the other side?” she asked with one-hand tugging and the other pointing.
“A very bad man” replied her mother with a terse tone.
They came to a stop and Jane heard another voice.
“Can I see her?”
“Not until you pay for your crimes.”
“Please Maryanne, just this once. I’m running out of time.”
Jane heard papers rustling followed by an almost silent weeping. Years later, she would learn that her father died both poor and blind.
A prodigious painter rose to great acclaim for his life-changing art. In particular, his portraits not only brought-out hidden qualities of people but also their latent talents, gifts that individuals never knew they possessed. Peasants, merchants, and royalty alike had changed their circumstances having seen themselves in the painter’s light. However, his genius was not without a drawback. The painter, whether out of an unconscious fear or a defense mechanism, could not paint his own portrait. In fact, he could neither recall nor see his own reflection in the mirror contrary to those around him. Those who he implored to paint his portrait or even to take his photograph could make no sense out it; everyone but him could see him. One day, the painter met a blind man who asked if he could take his portrait. Curious as to who the portrait would be for, the painter inquired and the blind man responded “for you”. When the painter finished the portrait, he saw not the blind man in front of him but a young man behind a canvas with purposeful eyes and a deliberate hand. The blind man was not so blind after all.