The Second Artist

*Continuation from The First Artist*

I continue my journey... my thoughts heavy with the woman I had viewed. The mists seemed to grow heavier, thicker... bogged me down until I was forcing my way through the grasping hands.

Faces where everywhere, all turned away... the wails of anguish, grief, pain... their voices echoed in my mind, made me clutch at my head in an effort to block them out!

Then a flicker of light, a man turned to me. He was pushed and shoved by those around him, the signs of abuse clear on his frame. He shivered there, despair in the eye I could see... the other was swollen shut and darkened by a bruise. He bit his lip, blood spilling down his chin where it had been split. Then he closed his eyes... and spread his arms wide.

A hush... a lull.... then a scream from the masses as they tried to grab him! Too late... too late... he fell. The ground opened up and took him in that cold embrace... the world fell in with him, all the beauty and grace that he had brought with him into this cold place... was taken with him as he fell....

The screaming went on and on... and I dared to lean over and look down that hole. He still fell... a soft smile on his face, having given himself totally to his art, selflessly shared all that he had... and yet... and yet the masses abused him and destroyed him. Then protested his loss.

Thus... the second artist's light was lost to us all.

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Done in colored pencils on *light* blue paper. I changed my mind halfway through and wanted it black... so I colored all that in by hand.