Thursday, January 5, 2006

Picture

Razz gave a sigh as she tugged on her heavy appendage that seemed to have taken root on her back for the four years of her attendance to high school. She gave a short chuckle thinking about the benefits of an overstock bag: 1.) It made a good weapon during a scuffle on the streets, 2.) It was a wonderful doorstopper, and 3.) She didn’t need to go work out; carrying her backpack had definitely given her a more athletic figure.

“I definitely need a locker...” The teenager mumbled as she dropped her luggage to the floor of her next class.

Quietly, she took her assigned seat and started rummaging through her backpack in search of a simple red sketchbook. The teacher went about his surroundings searching for his lesson plans, he glanced over at Razz and she gave him a light smile. He smirked and nodded, he had become used to their routine of salutation.

“What are you drawing today?” Razz looked up at her teacher and tilted her head slightly chewing on the eraser of her yellow pencil.

“I haven’t decided yet. Usually these things just pop in my head and I spend hours, days even trying to complete it.” Razz’s voice soon turned to a low mumble as she looked back down at the empty page that seemed to stare back at her with anguish devastation.

“I’m sure it’s just a phase, Razz...” The teacher walked over to where the girl sat and offered his condolence, “May I see?”

The mentor held out his hand and Razz was taken by surprise by his mannerly fashioned. She gave him a slow nod and place the red sketchbook in his large hands.

He ran his hands over the cover of the notebook and admired the quality and design of the homemade book cover she had made. Several patches of red, but all the same texture. The latch that had the pages closed was silver and had a trademark of a maple leaf.

Curiously, he opened it and took in a silent gasp as he awed in the masterpieces of his student. The first picture was underwater; the corals decorated the bottom floor along with the variety of exotic fishes. There was a mermaid picking up a shell and looking over her right shoulder, the picture seemed to sing a song of loneliness and longing to join her those like her. The longer he stared at the drawing, the more he was oddly inspired to capture the story that the sketch seemed to tell him like a compelling woman telling him her worries and woes.

“It’s beautiful...” Razz felt her heart stop and soon the sharp sting of tears developing at the corners of her eyes. Beautiful...The sincerity and honesty of her teacher’s voice had moved her soul in the most peculiar way.

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