He strolled around the lazy corridors,
And pondered on the last strokes,
His brush had dried of the red paint it last dipped,
The colour so favorite to her taste,
His eyes were dry,
His senses unreclaimed,
The breeze bristled on his still dark hair,
And his chiselled features shone against the drowning sun;
A certain knock had caught his parrot's attention,
And it creaked it's swing unless Arun noticed,
He skimmed through the old wooden floors,
Trying hard not to be heard,
And skillfully tapped the eye hole open,
To note the reason of distraction caused;
Stood outside a short bearded man,
With a plain tweed jacket,
And a pipe in his arm,
The kind he remember her dad used to have,
The kind he'd kept beside his bed,
Sliding the door a 2inch gap,
His humble voice rang through the lonely air,
"What do you seek in this despair?
These doors hath visitors none for centuries in air
And rightly so, they must be spared"
Much awaited by the lonely corridors,
The voice was like a light in the dark,
The corridors seemed to come alive,
A moment it took them to revive,
Arthur ignoring all the sign;
"I am a visitor you mustn't refuse,
I am the lover of art and fine,
I bring to you a price to keep,
Show me the wonder the world keeps whispering around,
And I shall lay you wealth much profound", said the visitor.
He dragged his right limb backward,
And swung open the creaking door,
Much after centuries it had been this way,
And foreign shoes entered the halls,
Foreign eyes looked eagerly around,
Much like the first time when dainty blue eyes had stepped in,
Looking for a teacher to teach her a skill to earn,
And the hunger was so great,
The greatest of all art had granted her his learning indeed;
A soft curl filled Arun's lips,
And his cheeks flushed of red,
While he scampered to his little den,
To unfold the mysterious painting;
Behind the sheets of dust,
Laid a gorgeous portrait of a real life lady, as if monalisa had been painted twice,
With a hint of subtle innocence and anger merging into one,
The pale blue cloudy skies behind passed a hint of darkness that contrasted the lady's smile,
The brush had done magic,
And every word of the hushed rumor was true;
"I am pleased and more, I must say it is worth much more, I shall not fear to negotiate for your sake", said the stranger.
Arun said, " I am overjoyed to see you appreciate the art behind my brush, like every other human who has walked through this door and that is why I brought you in. However, it's best I reveal, this art is not to sell, it is but for the eye to see and that is where it stays"
Arun's face was as stern as ever,
His limbs were weak but he seemed stronger when he said these words,
The stranger must have taken him to be much stronger for he retaliated with a logical quote;
"I must have offered you much less, that be said, I shall offer you your say, give me a quote and I shall have this to take"
Arun repeated his words and the stranger turned pale for it was his first acquaintance where he failed. His first meeting that broke his theory of the weaklings human race were. He stepped back and watched Arun turn from a smiling face to numb as the sheets went down, he adored the art more than just that, he looked at it like it were real.
The stranger then asked, "Curious as I am, is this part of your past, present or future?"
"It is but priceless, it is all I have to live by"
The stranger left. The story was never told, it remained witnessed and buried within the walls of the creaky floors. If only the hushed rumors knew, what money couldn't buy, they'd have lived a much happier life.
-Arun's diary
(This is a continuation of Arun's tale, these shall only give glimpses of his life, not the full novel).
