She stared down at them. Although her frame was thick and her paint abstract, she still had eyes. She could see the children, sitting on the green carpet and their father who happily tried to please his children’s wishes. As the man spun up another tall tale, she couldn’t help but wonder why she fell last in every story. Just once, she wanted to truly be a part of it, and not the saving grace at the end.
As the children filed out of the room, the idea of being first continued to plague the painting’s thoughts. Their stoic expression caught the attention of a small statue, who knew all about dread could plague the mind.
The statue turned towards the painting, eyebrows raised in concern. The painting sighed, relaying her worries.
The statue suggested a new story, one where they can all be who they wish. The painting smiled, accepting the idea.
They would make a new story, and she would be the first.
The first problem they came across was the idea of the story. Every time they thought of a new one, the round vase told them that it had already been done. The painting quickly gained respect and resentment towards the man. Finally, the shell spoke up, suggesting a story about a beach.
The shell told their stories about how long ago, they resided in an area made completely of sand. The others accepted the idea, and the shell joined the painting and statue in thinking of their story.
From above the fireplace, a tall blue vase sat. They asked for a bridge. If a story was to be told, they wanted it to have a bridge, so they could reach the other side of the fireplace to get to their sister. Understanding the feeling, the painting added it to their list.
The gold platter then rudely remarked, upset that they weren’t all invited to plan their stories. That they all wished that they were something different. The statute argued that the others haven’t asked. The platter huffed, simply stating that they were tired of being significant for so little time. They wanted a bigger role, something the painting understood dearly. It was added to their plan.
One after one, each object lining the walls pitched in, giving their takes and ideas for the story. What started as a small idea was growing before their eyes. Their story grew and grew, when each object was something different, something new. And finally, they had done it. A new story was created. It was ready to be told, so the painting got ready to tell-
Then the lights flickered on. The man and his children bustled into the room. He sat in his chair, seemingly thinking of a new story. The painting sighed. She could wait just a little longer.
Listen to Kayla read her story and see the spaces and objects in the Mark Twain House that inspired it. Thank you to Jodi DeBruyne for the creation of this video.