"Charlisa!" A voice echoes.
Charlisa nearly dropped her paintbrush on the grass after being startled by her servant. Just when she thought she has claimed an ounce of tranquility, it vanished before her sight. Charlisa's chances of not getting disturbed seemed vaguely slim now. Because of her high status, servants pestered her constantly to make sure she wasn't deprived of anything. Their bothersome behavior topped the list of her numerous fetishes. Yet, she still desired for pure peace, even though she knew it was far from reach.
Charlisa rolled her eyes. "What is it?"
Her servant walked over, carrying a food platter in her hands.
"I've been calling you the past ten minutes for lunch! Haven't you heard me? You must eat, Lady Charlisa. It isn't proper for you to abstain from eating. You know how your father feels about that."
"Of course, I know, Susan." Charlisa took a porcelain teacup, filling it to the brim with herbal tea.
Susan tried to peak behind Charlisa's canvas out of curiosity and annoyance. Charlisa faced the canvas away in the opposite direction when she noticed Susan's true intentions.
"What are you painting?" She asked.
"Nothing," Charlisa said. "Why, why do you ask?"
"C'mon Charlisa! Let your servant have a look! I can give you good critique if you want."
Charlisa knew Susan was the nosey-type. She didn't care about other people's feelings. Charlisa feared the reaction she'd get when Susan saw what she was painting. No, rather who she was in the middle of painting.
Charlisa placed a cloth over her canvas. "What if I don't want critique?"
"Just let me see it, Charlisa!"
"No—"
"Why not?"
"Because it's not meant for you to see," Charlisa choked on her breath. It's not meant for anyone, but me to see...
Susan pushed past Charlisa; removed the cloth, unveiling her secret masterpiece. Charlisa stood back—afraid. Wide-eyed and gossip hungry, Susan gasped like she had inhaled horrible dose of helium. However, Charlisa's painting also made her smile—a gruesome smile, One that could chill a spinal cord and feed on horror itself.
"Nothing," Charlisa said. "Why, why do you ask?"
"C'mon Charlisa! Let your servant have a look! I can give you good critique if you want."
Charlisa knew Susan was the nosey-type. She didn't care about other people's feelings. Charlisa feared the reaction she'd get when Susan saw what she was painting. No, rather who she was in the middle of painting.
Charlisa placed a cloth over her canvas. "What if I don't want critique?"
"Just let me see it, Charlisa!"
"No—"
"Why not?"
"Because it's not meant for you to see," Charlisa choked on her breath. It's not meant for anyone, but me to see...
Susan pushed past Charlisa; removed the cloth, unveiling her secret masterpiece. Charlisa stood back—afraid. Wide-eyed and gossip hungry, Susan gasped like she had inhaled horrible dose of helium. However, Charlisa's painting also made her smile—a gruesome smile, One that could chill a spinal cord and feed on horror itself.
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