BRITTANY HENRY - ABSENT ART

Brittany Henry is a natural born storyteller. She realized she had a penchant for spinning tales during her adolescent years, using storytelling to entertain friends and loved ones. As an individual fascinated with society and the human condition, she uses writing to gain an understanding of the world around her through thematic exploration. Being an US Navy veteran, Brittany often explores themes such as honor, courage, and duty. Science-fiction, fantasy, and paranormal are the genres she loves writing most. To get in contact with Brittany, message her at her email bjhenry1@fullsail.edu.

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                                             Absent Art

 
 
      Sarah swatted a closed pamphlet against her hand. Murmurs from fellow patrons accompanied the sound of paper meeting flesh. Most visitors positioned themselves in front of various works. Sarah, however, stood in front of a empty golden frame. The gold glistened from the sunlight provided by the picture windows to the right of her. She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Amidst rhythmic swats and murmurs was the loud fumbling of a museum pamphlet expanding.
      “Eh, uh, yeah, like I said, Barb, this is where the Sea of Galilee used to hang,” said Ted, reading the pamphlet and motioning for his wife to join him. Barbara maneuvered over to the empty frame.
      Sarah turned the corners of her mouth upwards and offered the couple a gracious nod.
      “Hey, howsit goin’, kid,” asked Ted.
      “It’s going well,” said Sarah. “Thanks for asking.”
      “Man, Barb, I sure wish I could have seen that paintin’ up close,” he said. “It was supposed ta depiciate, uh, Jesus with his pals there, during the storm. You know, da one from uh…Leviticus 9 and…?” Ted snapped his fingers repeatedly.
      “Mark 4 and 37, Ted,” said Barbara, picking the dirt beneath her nails.
      “Yeah, like I said, Mark 4:37. What did Jesus say to stop the storm? ‘Peace be unto you’ or something like that?”
      “Peace, be still,” Sarah said, placing her arms behind her back. Her pamphlet swatted the back of her thigh.
      “Yeah, that’s the ticket,” said Ted, patting on Sarah’s back, causing her to cough. “I didn’t take you for the, uh, religious type. What with the funny colored hair, dark clothing and—“
      Barbara elbowed Ted in his side. “You have to forgive my husband, honey. He has a remarkable talent for putting his entire foot in his mouth,” said Barbara, plastering a smile across her plump face. “We’re the Wakowskis by the way. Ted and Barbara Wakowski.”
      “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Sarah Gordon,” she said. “And it’s quite alright, I didn’t take offense.”
      The Wakowskis moved away from the empty frame.
 Three sherbet orange chairs sat beneath the blank frame. Reserved spot for the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, perhaps. The orange went well with the seafoam green walls with golden etchings. Sarah remained rooted in front of the frame long enough for the Wakowskis to return.
      “Eh, you still here, kid? It’s a cryin’ shame they took dat paintin’, but there’s no need to let it ruin ya visit,” said Ted, scratching his cul-de-sac of brown hair.
      “My visit is far from ruined, Mr. Wakowski,” said Sarah, through a smile. “Although it is regrettable that the piece was stolen, I’m enjoying the absence of the work.”
        “Absence of work?” Ted’s face puckered, causing his mustache to sit crooked. He shook his head. “I’m not followin’ you, kid. That doesn’t make no sense.”
      “Ted, shush,” said Barbara tapping her husband’s shoulder.
      “Don’t shush me, Barbara! I’m just speakin’ the truth. How can you appreciate something dat ain’t there? You tell me dat, kid,” said Ted casting his nose upwards, puffing his chest out and placing his hands on his hips. Although his most pronounced feature was his gut.
      “Well, that’s one way to look at it, Mr. Wakowski. But if Rembrandt’s work hung here, in all of its brilliance, it would simply be that, a painting by Rembrandt. Very finite in nature. Its absence opens up infinite possibility. Some may see nothing and become despondent. Others, sheer potentiality and become inspired,” Sarah said shrugging.
      Ted grunted. “I betcha one of those types that love that modern evan-guard crap, aren’t ya?”
      “Oh, heaven’s no!” Sarah said placing her hand on her chest. “That stuff is god awful.”
      The trio chuckled.
      “Well, again, it’s been a pleasure meeting you two today,” Sarah said, folding her pamphlet in half and placing it in her back pocket. “I think I’ll be on my way.”
      “Uh huh, likewise, kid.”
Ted buried his nose in his brochure. His wife waved goodbye. Sarah returned her gesture.