The Painter's Sister

• Nikayla Brownbill, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2019

Taking out a fresh paintbrush, the famous painter dabbed it once in the lilac paint and turned towards his canvas. Thinking for a few moments, he placed the brush on the linen surface and made a few quick strokes on the background. Absorbed in his painting, he didn’t hear the cry of help outside his window. Nor did he hear the thump that sounded after it. He didn’t hear it, but his sister did. Running out of the house, holding only an old rag in her unclean hands, she followed the source of the noise, stopping still in front of an unused house.
Pulling a set of keys from a chain, she slid the first one out and tried it. The key turned partially in the keyhole and then stopped. Pulling it out, she tried another one. This time her result was successful and she pushed on the old wooden door. It moaned in protest, as it scraped along the ground. Fumbling to her right, she grabbed onto something rusty and she pulled it closer to her, determined to figure out what it was. The girl turned it over, as the light swept onto it. A lantern. Grabbing a slightly damp match box out of the pocket in her torn woolen skirt, she attempted, with shaking hands, to light it up. On the third attempt, the fire blared up, and she lit the lantern, closing the door of it, with a bang.
The lantern’s light illuminated the surroundings around her, putting her in a two storied deserted house. Beside her lay a table, scattered with odds and ends, on which she had found the lantern. A large wooden staircase, with scratches on it, ran up one side of the house. Picking through the mess on the floor, she crept over to the stairs, and begin descending them, one by one.
Upon reaching the top, she squints in the darkness, illuminated only by the faint light she holds. However, dark as it may be, the small girl knew her way around this place like the back of her hand. Knowing this, she crept over to the opposite side of the room and knelt down. She felt with her hands for a few moments, before they catch on a silver rings. She placed the lantern to her side and tugged on the ring hard, pulling it up. It moves to reveal a large stone staircase leading down.
At the bottom of the staircase, her feet made a loud thump, as they caught on a stray wooden plank. A hushed whisper came from one end.
“Who’s there?” it calls softly.
The girl smiled and raised an arm up, “Just me, Marlo.”
The hidden person takes one look at her outstretched hand and steps into the light. The girl smiled once again, two long pointy teeth showing.
“Be quiet, Marlo. You can be heard. I don’t want my feast to be taken away.”