The Picture Arcade

This story tells us about the mental health of a person. (Depression, loneliness, anxiety )

I found myself eagerly running and trying to find the stairs of that weird abandoned arcade again...  

As always I entered the Mahima street at 8pm on Sunday evening and went straight into "The Picture Arcade". Going there became my routine, my life was pretty boring but visiting that arcade was the only thing which was exciting for me. " The Picture Arcade" was a showcase for both newbies and experienced painters. A long seems like never ending and everyone wants it to be never ending gallery, having awfully unimaginable paintings of every mankind. From tiny to huge, colourless to full of colours, gloomy to jolly, every single type of thing was painted down on the paint board and were hung on the walls. Those red empty walls look like they are hiding themselves behind the warrior frames that are protecting the wall's solitary being noticed by outsiders and highlighting what's inside of them. A life, a world, a dimension that's beyond the reach of today's reality. Ceiling wall was so high as if it's staring at everyone from the top, trying to whisper "Shallower the feeling, higher the ceiling". I went there so often that even the carpet started to look like a weight loosing walking plaza, start from this end to that end and that end to this end, repeat it until you can't anymore. 

Every thing was a dead but undead gloomy object but these paintings... 

They were refreshing full of memories, happiness and sunshine. Paintings can take away anyone's suffering and lit there life like a bonfire, paintings can give hope to anyone and heal them in an instant but until Lisa left. Now there's no life even inside these paintings. I come here every Sunday's exhibition to find Lisa I mean life. 

I used to paint too but until Lisa left. She was my previous treasure but not any longer. She needs someone who can support her and her future kids so that they can live a happy life. I was a freelance painter who barely made any good money out of his work, even my bread goes without butter sometimes in morning. 

"She might have moved on, obviously it's been nearly a year now but I'm still there where she left me".

As I was thinking about her I entered an unknown arcade. " Arcade no. 3. It said 3....? Was there a 3rd gallery? " I was confused. I have been coming here since I was in middle school but I have never seen this before. I started to walk slowly there was no one, it was empty and dark. I started to take my long and staggered steps but then suddenly I stopped. I saw... I saw a painting of Lisa... 

"But how's this even possible? She isn't a model or something so how come they have a painting of her? "

I couldn't believe on my eyes. I wanted to remove that frame and take it with me. 

"You are coming home with me".

It didn't take much long for the next painting to catch my eye, it was her again but in different outfit and place, she was wearing a long slit gown with a background as if she's in a party. The next one, she's in casual dress sitting on a couch reading local magazine. And the next, and next.... Everywhere , every picture... There was Lisa... My Lisa... But why? I don't understand... I kept running back and forth to see the picture I already saw two minutes ago. I remember them clearly, these are the moments she spent with me, when we were together, a happy relationship.  But my happiness turned into fear in no time. After crossing half of the gallery those pictures started to show up in which she called me "jobless, worthless man". Her shouting were echoing in the arcade. I could clearly hear her saying I don't deserve her and how much she's suffering because of me... 

"I wanted a man who can raise my children without having any trouble. I'm done with you, I already found someone much better, never try to find me... Goodbye... John."

"Please don't go Lisa, I'll try my best, I'll find a job for you, we'll be all right... Please don't go.... Please don't go.... Please DON'T LEAVE ME LISA... Please don't... "

I wanted to hold her hand tight and say that I'll change. So, I started running after her... Where's she... Where's she?.... It took me a few minutes to realise that i was running into thin blank air. There was so one around. Gallery was empty , it was just me and the paintings of Lisa and of course the hollowness of gallery. 

"I need to get out of here, there was a stair right? I just need to find those stairs which led me here".

I kept running, trying to find my way out of that cruel world where Lisa left me. I could clearly hear my footsteps thudding loudly in the silence of the arcade, my heavy half ran out breaths and loud pounding of heartbeat that wasn't too loud but enough to scare a kid if heard in speakers. After an eternity, may be minutes but to me it seemed like eternity I saw an arcade. 

"Yeah that must be the exit"

I ran and entered an unknown arcade. 

" Arcade no. 3" It said..... 3?? Was there any 3rd gallery here? I was confused.... 

-

-

-

It didn't take much long that I found myself eagerly running and trying to find the stairs of that weird abandoned arcade again... 

Next day ( times of India news paper's heading) " A man named John committed suicide in front of the last painting of "The picture arcade". He was holding a piece of paper in which " Lisa left me" was written in a loop". 

Greeting readers. I'm a newbie here, I just started writing. Thank you for reading my story. I'll really appreciate if you can tell me what I should improve in my writings. Looking forward to your feedbacks.