Drawing Room Death

Inhaling the scent of paint, I took a deep breath. The last few days I had spent working on this new project and I was so excited to be done. Yet in the end it would all be worth it. Deciding my short break was over, I picked up my paint brush and dipped it in some water. Rinsing it around for a second, I watched the water swirl. It was strangely calming. Maybe all this time cooped up in the drawing room was getting to me. After I finished this painting I would get into the fresh open air. The grandness of the room wasn’t able to distract me and I painted on.

The great doors of the room opened and in walked my partner. “You’re still working here?” she asked, carrying a platter of tea. “We won’t be having company any time soon” I muttered, not taking my eyes off the canvas. “Why couldn’t you just paint somewhere else? Why did it have to be the drawing room?” She set the platter down with a clink on the table. “And my goodness it reeks of paint in here. You need to get outside. These fumes will kill you dear”. I could hear her pouring the tea behind me. “Once I finish the painting I’ll be free. Perhaps we could take a walk in the gardens?” I offered. “Sounds perfect love. But please, hurry. You haven’t taken any breaks besides to use the bathroom and to sleep for days. Staying in here with all these toxic chemicals is dangerous” She set my cup on a stool next to me and kissed my cheek. “Enjoy your tea” she looked back at me longingly before leaving the room again. The draft from the door was welcomed and allowed me to take a deep breath again. Some of the paint fumes had sneaked into the breath and gave me a headache.

Suddenly I felt very dizzy. But I persevered, shook my head and kept going. Painting was where I could go to escape. It was a way to say something poetic without speaking a word. Plus the strokes of the paintbrush on a fresh canvas was so inviting. Reaching for the paint cup I dipped my brush in the green paint and flashed it across the canvas. Then my sight went foggy and my head fell. My body slipped off the chair and fell with a thud to the ground. On the way down my hand knocked over the stool and the tea cup came down with it. It crashed on the ground and a small chip on the rim disconnected. Lying unmoving on the floor I gathered myself before attempting to get up.

After a minute, I picked myself up off the floor, I plucked the cup and the broken piece up too. The tea was spilled in a wet mess on the planks. There was no mop available, just my rag to wipe the mistakes off my painting. So I grabbed it off the easel and got back down on my knees to wipe up the tea from the wood floor. While I was down there I looked up at the large ceiling of the drawing room. Before then I hadn’t really noticed the beauty of the room. I’m not sure what came over me, but I sat there for a while on the floor admiring every inch of this massive room. Finally I snapped out of it and got back to my seat. The painting must continue. For nearly a month I had planned and worked on this and it was almost over. If I could just… finish this section… I could… take a well deserved break. 

The same feeling from before was back. Teetering on the chair, I swayed back and forth until I could regain myself. A few times I smacked my face, trying to snap out of it. “Come on. Just get it over with” rubbing my face I blinked away the fogginess and reached for my tea. It was empty. How could I forget? Just moments before I had knocked it to the ground and now I tried to drink from a spilled cup. What was going on? Deciding I must be sleep deprived I closed my eyes for a moment. Just a moment. 

A bird chirping outside the window woke me. The newly filled bird bath had attracted 3 birds who were splashing and playing in the water. God how I wished I could be out there watching them. Sitting on a different chair in the fresh air on the green grass with a tea cup filled full to the unbroken brim. Yawning, I scratched the back of my head and looked at the paintbrush in my hand. I should take a break, I thought. The other side of my brain argued back with thoughts of never getting this done. Just an hour more and I could be out with those birds, walking by colorful flowers with my girl. But the paint fumes became more present than ever before. I had opened a new can for a new part of the canvas and it’s fresh smell pierced my nostrils. After a while I started coughing. It got so aggressive I fell onto the lavish carpet and there I stayed until I could catch my breath.

It was starting to get overwhelming. Every time I even opened my mouth the paint infiltrated my insides and my brain went blank. Fresh air. I stumbled and crawled across the floor. My brain wouldn't work properly. Arms flailing I knocked down the easel. The canvas landed right side up but the paint cans spilled all over, even some getting on my clothes. Day in and day out I had worked so hard to complete this thing that had meant so much to me and now I could see it as well as my consciousness slipping away. Get to the door, get to the door. Fresh air. 20 more feet and I would be fine. But the spilled paint was slowing me down even more than I was. The air I was breathing was poisoned and there wasn’t much of a way to escape. How could this happen in a room such as this. And so quickly too. I guess it makes sense if you add up the hours I’ve spent here. You don’t expect many tragedies to occur in a drawing room other than a murder mystery.

10 more feet. Things were fading in and out of black. I tried to blink it away but it just made things worse. Now my whole body was sprawled against the wooden floor. If only she would walk in right now. Yell for her. Yell. My throat strained but all I could get out was a quiet squeak. “Please. Please help” I coughed. Army crawling across the floor I hung onto life by a fingernail. 5 feet. I can make it. The door handles right there. Just a little longer. Paint on my clothes and hands seemed to drag me backwards, Somehow it went from 5 more feet to 100. Please not here. Not now. My painting was almost finished. The fogginess returned but this time in my brain as well as my sight. Where was I? Where was I going and why? Nonetheless I keep crawling. 4 feet. My nails scraped against the wood floor. My leather shoes propelled me forward at an ever slowing pace.

3 feet. But I couldn’t go any further. My limbs stilled and I laid on the floor. Finally, it went black and nothing came back. My breathing nearly stopped. Which was almost good in a way, I couldn’t inhale the paint anymore. I wish she was here. To either help or just watch. For her to be in my company in this magnificent room while I suffered my last moments would be great. The only sounds I could hear was my choking and the distant songs of lively birds bathing in the sun. You know, maybe I was stupid. I should've opened a door or window or even just let myself take a break. When you love something you don’t ever want to stop. Which is the real reason I used the drawing room to paint in. Unknowingly it calmed my nerves with it’s large ceilings, comfortable fancy furniture, and overall peaceful setting. How wonderful it was to pass in such a place. 

At this point I had fully accepted it. Maybe I was even happy about it, I can’t say. My stupid actions led to my stupid and pityful death. Chest rising, it fell. Fingers twitched and feet moved slightly. My chest never rose again. The green smell on my shirt was no longer affecting me. I couldn’t see, taste or feel. Although the faint smell of the intoxicating chemical still lingered. And the ticking of the clock as well as birds outside remained. There was one last thing I could sense. The door creaking open and the gasp of my partner. I hadn’t been able to feel anything else except her hands on my arms. Then there was absolutely nothing. No faint smell, no ginger hands shaking me, no cries or chirps, just nothing. 

What a strange ending, wouldn’t you say? Locked in a splendid drawing room of a castle with nothing but my art and the sights of the serene outside world. Occasional tea breaks from my girl. It was funny. How I died. And how I haunt this room forever. Memories of past joy and love encapsulated in one room. Hilarious. It happened so fast. I just wish I could've finished that painting.