The Paint Brush

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Author's Note: this is another creative writing assignment where for an end of the semester project we had to write a little story in a paint brush's POV when being used. Hope you like it :)

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    I tingle with excitement as my mistress dipped my bristles in the cool, bright red paint. As she lifted me from the pool of red onto the canvas, paint dripped from me onto the mistress's shirt. I felt guilty for letting such a thing happen, but she continued her way and pressed my bristles against an outline of a jolly, white-bearded man, who's clothes were still yet to be created,. Mistress moved me up and down, left to right. Again I was submerged into the pool of red then brushed along the plump man's outline. This was my mistress's every day routine, but something different was showing through my mistress's behavior. Her strokes with me felt the same, but the world around me had changed.

    Joy-filled music played in the background while white powder fell and piled up on the outside of the window, which was decorated with holly and twinkling lights. The room smelt of freshly baked cookies and the warmth of the fire that danced in the fire place made me feel the happiness of the environment.

   Mistress wore her usual old, paint-speckled t-shirt but her feet were covered in fluffy, red and white socks. She smiled more times than two normal painting days with her and her young energy was over the top. A new, yet warm feeling filled my frame as I looked upon my mistress. Her happiness had reached me.

   The man we had created now wore a thick red coat and pants that were equally red. With a few more swishes and glides, the hat was finished. Mistress stood a step back and on that canvas, stood the man, dressed in a red suit, bending down and putting presents underneath a decorated pine tree, much similar to the tree Mistress stood next to. Stockings hung on the fireplace, where a roaring fire swayed and cookies and milk sat on a tray near the tree.

    Mistress the brought me to the sink, cleansed my bristles of paint, and set me back on the tray of her easel. This was the best painting experience, since the first and I will always remember it.

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