Prologue

A Chapter by Mercer

This was a Creative writing prompt, that I decided to turn into a story.

She sat there, the girl who is known to me only as The Artist. The day was sunny, with darker clouds approaching on the western horizon. We were both facing south. She sat on the bleachers, battered sketchbook and pen in hand, brow furled in frustration. She continued to draw. People came and passed, I continue to watch, with curiosity. On many occasions she would throw glances to the southern horizon, as if looking for someone. More people come and leave, none stopping for her. The storm clouds pass along with the time, slipping away, just like the marks of her pencil, slipping onto the page, crafting a magnificent creature, a bird of some sort. After she seems to have finished drawing she conjures a hoodie out of a drawstring bag by her side. She puts it on with a slight flourish, a certain elegance where she swung the cloth over her shoulders and down upon them. She looks at the drawing and removes it from the sketchbook, letting it flutter in the wind. It came to rest by a tree between us. She never looked back and walked out of the park. Bag on her back and sketchbook in the crook of her arm. As she walked away she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, perhaps she had been expecting someone who hadn't shown up. After she disappeared around a corner, I strode to the tree and picked up the picture.

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