Title: Teatro No. 5 Author: keppiehed Word Count: 904 Prompt: this picture: Teatro No. 5 A/N: Written for musemuggers, Challenge #502, Option #4. The previous challenge was #498, Option #2, the picture.
I never know what to expect - but it's always a surprise and a treat to read . . . and always seems so real, that i'm always wanting more, wondering what happens next . . .
You are so very kind! I am always pleased to know that my little stories seem real; I'm worried that they are heavy-handed or boring. Thank you so much for reading!
Ooof. This has so many aspects it needs reading many times. One has to put a 'family' a 'life' and a reason for his being here, at this particular building... Oh dear. And all the pictures come back - and that has a most particular pain to it.
This is an ice-cold painting, black and white... told without sentiment or bathos. But exquisitely painful beneath. Thank you Keppie.
Oh, I'm so glad you liked it. You know, the kids are home so I kept getting interrupted and I was all frustrated like "argh!"; I could quite get my thoughts down the way I wanted and then I just went, "Ah, whatever, I'm done!" and posted it as is! You are always so kind about my work!
Even if he is sending them to his mother, I have to wonder if maybe there's more to the "unwashed dropout" and the bookstore than meets the eye, else perhaps Alex might not've become so obsessed...
It could be true! I like creating characters/stories that have enough angles to them that there could be many explanations. I feel like that makes it more realistic; after all, life isn't just a straightforward answer on how we behave, there are often many hidden factors to why we do what we do. So I;'m glad that this was nuanced enough to seem like there were some little undercurrents going on!
I really want to know why his letters come back unopened. There is a story there, and I'm sure it's not the one he's constructed in his head. Poor guy. At least he has his art to occupy his time (even if he seems a bit obsessed.)
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This is an ice-cold painting, black and white... told without sentiment or bathos. But exquisitely painful beneath. Thank you Keppie.
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