Arkley Falls

The Artist's Story

(Originally a story in eight parts, there are slight jumps between each section, as they were written and posted separately. Each section is divided by a line.)

You carefully set up your easel in the Arkley Falls town square, trying to get a good angle on the way the light hit the trees. Sure, you could have gone to the nature conservatory just outside town, but for some reason, you always felt pulled back to this location. Something about it just drew you in, and you loved the way you felt when you were there.

You spend a bit of time picking your paints, then get right to work with your palette knife, trying to capture the light and colors of the afternoon. You manage to cover most of the canvas before a small crowd forms, as it always did when you painted in public.

Initially, it had bothered you; no artist that you knew of particularly enjoyed being watched while they worked. But after a while you got used to it, and after someone had left a tip for you one day, you realized that you could actually make money doing what you loved.

So, you'd put out a dented, paint-spattered bucket nearby, and a few of your paintings with price tags on them in the hopes that someone might like them and buy them.

To your surprise, your paintings were somewhat popular. You rarely went home with more than the one you'd been working on.

But even still, it wasn't enough. You were behind in your various loans, your cell phone had been turned off, and you barely had any money for food. Even with the problems you had, you still were happy that you spent your days doing what it was you loved to do. Most of the time.

It was on this particular day that something changed, however. Though you weren't sure it was for the better.

"What's all this about?" You hear a smooth, deep voice say through the crowd. Abruptly, the crowd around you disperses, and you sigh. Looks like there'd be nothing fancy for dinner tonight. You half turn and glance over your shoulder, honestly curious who could have caused such a disruption.

"Oh, hey," the newcomer says, casually waving a heavy paw. You blink as you take in his appearance and can scarcely believe your eyes. He was tall, strongly built, and wearing clothes cut just a little too precisely to be store-bought. He was also wearing a strange black-brown bandoleer thing over his clothes, and it had a unsettling organic look to it. But the real detail was the lion's head on his shoulders. His reddish-tan fur and dark rust-colored mane shone brightly as he gave you a sharp-toothed smile, emerald eyes squinting a little in the sun. "Come here often?"

You stare for a long moment before nodding and turning back to your painting. Whoever this guy was, you got a weird feeling from him you didn't much care for. As you pick up your palette knife again, a huge furry face appears at your shoulder, making you jump and nearly drop your paints.

"Hey, this is really nice stuff here," he says with interest. "Do you do this for a living?"

"I do," you say shortly. Being startled is your least favorite thing in the world, and immediately put this guy on your shit list. You take a step away from him; with his height and size, he was literally standing over you.

"Wow. That's really cool," he glances down at you as you chew your lip in annoyance. "What's the matter?" You're honestly surprised that he could tell anything was wrong, but shake your head.

"It's nothing. I'm probably going to pack up for the day," you say in a resigned tone. You scowl slightly at the untouched paintings nearby and the near-empty bucket. You'd been hoping to at least be able to afford food for the week. "Nobody's really interested today, anyway," you mutter quietly to yourself.