"So you like art then?" Sarah asked.
"Yea. I love to paint and draw but I don't ever do anything with the ones I make."
"Do you have any with you? I would love to see them sometime."
"Not at the moment, but I have some in my room in the palace. If you want to wait here for a moment, I can go and get a few."
"Sure. I'll wait right here. I might move on to look at a few of the other paintings while I wait tho."
"Ok! I will be right back!" the boy said as he ran around the corner.
-
Sarah looked at the painting again for a minute then turned around to look at another one. This painting was an abstract painting. Dot's of bright, vibrant colors filled the page. Face's that looked like they had been sliced in half and were slipping down the page had extraordinary faces.
She moved onto the next painting. Instead of one painting, there were many. Canvases turned every which way filled the section of the wall. Each canvas had different shapes made of different colors. Never have the same shape or the using the same color on each canvas and the shapes never touched. Sarah didn't really get the meaning of this one so she read the plaque next to it.
The plaque said the name of the painting, Solitude. It also said, although they are together, none of them have acceptance because none of them have anything in common. If only they had the courage to move to the next canvas. Sarah shrugged, still not understanding the meaning.
She walked around for a bit, looking at most of the painting's hanging on the wall, ending up right back at the painting she had started with. She looked around for the boy and didn't see him. She checked her phone and it said that 15 minutes had passed. She thought about asking a servant to fetch him but she soon realized that she had never asked for his name.
Just as she was about to leave there were footsteps thudding on the hallway. The boy ran around the corner, pieces of paper fluttering in his hand. "Sorry that I took so long. My room is all the way on the other side of the palace and it took me forever to get there. Then I had to pick my favorite ones to show you. THEN I had to run all the way back here."
"That's alright, it's a good thing you came back now tho. I was just about to leave."
"Yea, it is." He responded. He handed her the papers and said "I have never shown them to anyone before. Don't make fun."
"Don't worry, I won't." Sarah reassured s she flipped through the papers. The papers had watercolor paints. They were stiff and slightly yellowed. There were paintings of sunset's and people. Car's and animals. They were all very well done. She was about to hand them to him when a piece of card stock fell to the floor. Sarah picked it up and gasped.
It was so beautiful.
An old cabin sat in a forest. It had vines growing on it, seemingly abandoned for a long time. Except for the fact that smoke was coming from the chimney and I light was on inside the house. The house was small and well loved. It made her think of a house where many loving family's had lived in. The house filled to the brim of memories. Memories of happiness and love, to memories made out of sadness, fear and hatred. In the corner there was the initials H.P. were scrawled in flawless cursive. H.P? Sarah though. Who had the initial's H.P?
"You like that one?" The boy asked.
"Yea. This one is my favorite." Sarah said, her mind still trying to figure out why those initials seem so familiar.
"You keep it then."
"What? Are you sure? It's so beautiful tho! It should be hung up in a museum. Or you could sell this. You could make a very successful career out of this." Sarah said.
"Father would never let me. I will never be able to make a career out of this for it would be selfish of me to wish for more than what I already have. I have been lucky in life so far and do not want to risk angering God for being ungrateful for my current possessions."
"Why wouldn't your father let you become an artist? Also why would god be angry for you to follow your dreams? Instead, shouldn't god be supportive of you, and want to help you succeed?" Sarah asked.
The boy hesitated for a moment until he finally said, "Father would never agree because… because I am a prince. He would say that a prince shouldn't be running sound wishing to be an artist when he can eventually become the king."
"Prince? You're the prince?!" Sarah said with wide eyes.
The boy bowed and said "Prince Henry Perr at your service."
Sarah immediately dropped into a curtsey. "Y-your highness!" Sarah stuttered.
Prince Henry cringed at her sudden formalness. "Please don't call me your highness. Just call me Henry or if you still insist on standing on ceremonies, Prince Henry will do."
"Y-yes your hi- I mean… Henry, Prince Henry." Sarah said, trying to cover up her mistake.
"I only ask you to call me Henry because nobody else is willing to talk to me like you just were. They are always too busy being fake. Worried that they will offend me, avoiding me to stay out of trouble and coming to me only when they need something or are being paid to do so. I hate it. I hate it! Please, just talk to me like you would a friend. It would mean so much to me if you could merely wave at me if we see each other again." He confessed.
"You want me to treat you as a friend?" Sarah asked.