Leafless Trees
The family had lived there for some time now. The walls had trinkets and photos of all the different events and members that have come and gone throughout the years. The house looked lived-in and had the scars of children that were now adults. Certain rooms had hosted memories of heartbreak and broken promises, while other rooms were converted from baby rooms to music poster-filled walls.
The youngest child had finally left for college and as the car pulled away from the well-paved parking lot, the mother and father waved tenderly goodbye. The daughter looked at her rearview mirror staring at her parents until they were out of sight. A few drops of the winter rain started to come down on the pavement and the mom and dad rushed inside to avoid it. The door had a certain weight to it as it shut behind them. The mother rushed away and hid in the nearest bathroom. The father called out after her asking her if she wanted a drink but she barely grasped it.
She responded faintly and ran into their nearest bathroom, holding back her sobs as she braced the bathroom sink, peering at herself in the mirror. She needed to pull herself together. It wasn't her first child to leave for college, but she knew it would be her last and she felt the weight of time and the emptiness of all her children's laughter rush out from her home like a lifeless wind.
She took a deep breath, unbuttoned the top of her jeans to get more comfortable, and opened the bathroom door. She stood at the frame of the door for a minute just staring at the painting of trees that were hanging in front of her. They had bought it a long time ago and had moved from place to place with them as the kids grew. It was placed in a very unnoticeable part of the hallway due to having a plain color palette that didn't match the rest of the house.
She had always loved it though. It was a rather simple piece, just trees with beautiful green leaves on the edge of a forest-like assortment. She closed her eyes and remembered a time before the kids when she and her best friend would hike up mountain paths and would see things just like the painting in autumn when all the tree had lost their leaves. She smiled about that time, simpler and more innocent times. It made her laugh a bit as she regretted none of it and she felt fulfilled, the memory made her feel better and she move into the hallway. As she made her way towards the kitchen where she assumed her husband was getting his night of freedom ready, she peered quickly back at the painting. It struck her as odd but she hadn't ever noticed a black bush by the base of one of the trees. It looked out of place and new but she shrugged and moved forward toward the sound of her husband making whistling noises in the kitchen.
The months dragged on. Facetime calls turned into texts and just like all the other kids before the distance and typical life affairs got in the way of communication. The mom frowned at her phone, she knew they would all be apologetic during the holidays but she still wasn't used to the emptiness of the house. She made herself tea as she went to her bedroom to get ready for the day. It looked sunny out, so she put on shorts and a light top. She was going to meet her husband during his lunch break and try out a new local food truck. As she walked down the hallway she looked at the painting on the wall in confusion. Taking a step back into the bathroom and staring at the painting with bewilderment. Her husband must have changed the painting. It was eerily similar to the one they had before.
It occurred to her that the forest was laid out the same way the previous painting was. This one just looked like a dying forest. Trees were laid bare and leafless. Some looked to be cut down and were dying. The color scheme even looked different. It now merged well with the colors of the other frames and bookshelves around the house. Perhaps that's why she hadn't noticed till now. It just seemed to fit in so well with everything it was barely noticeable. She shook her head in frustration and ran out to meet her husband. Questions burning on the tip of her tongue.
He had no answers for her, unfortunately. He claimed the painting had always been that way since they had put it up. Even mentioning that she liked it cause it matched with the rest of the house. It confused her cause she was certain that it had been a different painting at one point, but she wasn't in a mood to argue and less about something as silly as a painting. She would probably bring it up to the kids when they got back home for the holidays and see if they remembered a different painting.
It was really bothering her though. Every day she would walk through the hallway and every day she would stare at the painting for a while. It never changed or moved. It certainly didn't feel familiar. She slowly forgot what the original painting looked like. What the leaves on the trees looked like and how the colors splashed vividly that it mocked her life as a mother. Matching the mess that was her children's childhood.
Then on the brink of the holiday season late in the evening, she noticed something odd about the corner of the painting. As if It was a shadow cast by the shading behind a tree trunk. What once was a bush was now a whole human-like figure. It sent chills down her spine, and she immediately took the painting off the wall and into the garage. She was done with it and feeling the insanity that it brought.
The next morning she had her husband take it to the dump and after much rationalizing, he finally agreed and sped away with it on top of their other rubbish. At least now she had peace and could come up with something to cover the empty space of the wall. She made a mental note to go to the store find something with her husband when he had time and pick something just for them.
Time is ever-consuming, however, and the holidays were busier than normal. As the kids and their significant others arrived, so did all the errands that had to be done to make their days home special. It was the youngest that reminded her first. Asking about the empty space on the wall outside of the bathroom. Her mother brushed it off as a matter of preference. It wasn't until they were all sitting talking at dinner that the old boy spoke. He asked about the painting that he had made all those years ago and why it wasn't on the wall anymore. The middle child made a joke about a lack of artistic talent and the youngest just sipped down her wine quicker.
Their mother sat there at the end of the question for a second, pondering why she had forgotten that her oldest had made it. How it was one of a few pieces that survived from his time at art school. How he was so happy to see it on their wall as the other siblings got older. She didn't know what to say. She just shrugged and allow her husband to come up with something. In the end, it was decided that it just was something that happened and that they were sorry if they offended their son in some way, that they completely forgot why it was there and just got rid of it to better match the house.
It was then that her husband exclaimed that he had stored it in the garage hidden behind his tools. That he hadn't thrown it but rather kept it for himself for some other space later. All the kids laughed and ran out to go see it. Their mother approached slowly from behind with worry and astonishment in her chest. She knew it was different than the way they had left it but more so that it was something she would have to get rid of herself later in private for her own faith suggested something darker under the pastels and acrylics.
There behind the tools, covered in what appeared to be very long paper was the painting and as their father withdrew it from its place by the wall the paper fell to reveal the painting's distorted glory. All the kid's voices quieted to a hush and then to complete silence. What was before their eye's sat a horrific image of insanity. The colors were uncomfortably distorted and what looked before like a shadow of a figure now proudly stood in the center of the painting blood running down its eyes. Words were written in an etched fashion on the trunks of the darkened dead trees. The brush looked to be aflame and soot was clearly smeared all over. With darkened glowing red lettering the tree trunks read:
“Where did all my happiness go?”
“I am all alone in here”
“Why do they not call me?”
“Will this emptiness ever not haunt me”
That's when the figure screamed from the painting. A woman's scream, a resounding scream. One that was matched by their mother as she screamed from behind them. For, the figure in the painting was her and the emptiness she hoped to hide away in her son's painting came bleeding out.