Having Style

Part Two

He stepped into the room and picked up his palette and brush. With five easy strokes, he covered part of the scenery with white paint. He set the items down and walked to the door and looked out. He wasn’t quite sure if he had changed anything so he went outside and walked to the edge of the yard, that is, the new edge because the rest was gone. It had been wiped clean just as he had wiped it out in the painting.

Casey shook his head. Was he crazy or going crazy? He knew what was going on couldn’t possibly be real but yet it was happening; or at least he thought it was happening and that was enough to make him question his sanity. Without further thought, he went back into the studio and repainted the backyard scenery as best he could remember it; then went back into the yard to discover the yard had reappeared. Overwhelmed with surprising amusement, he chuckled.

Casey turned and examined the cottage. He knew what had to be done. He had to recall to memory a picture of his real house so that he could paint it and get his life back to normal. Inside the house he set up a new easel and canvas and began sketching out his house and yard, every so often stepping back from it to get a better idea on his progress and accuracy. It was anything but perfect but he believed it was close enough to get him back home from wherever he was at, at the moment.

Feeling famished, he went into the kitchen and opened the cabinet doors. To his surprise, they were well stocked, although many of the products were not ones he would typically buy. Eager to get back to the painting, he opted for a couple peanut butter sandwiches and a cup of tea. He put some water in the kettle and decided to venture around the house while it was heating.

As he moved from room to room, Casey was actually taken in with the design and décor in the house. He moved into one room and guessed by the way it was set up with desk and bookshelves, that it was a den. He spotted his cell phone on the desk and made a dash for it, snatching up and punching in the speed dial number for his friend Jon. He paced back and forth trying to will Jon to answer. The call was interrupted by the operator saying that the number could not be completed as dialed. He tried more of the numbers only to get the same response.

Casey carried the phone into the kitchen just as the kettle whistled signifying the water was boiling. Frustrated, he set the phone on the table and proceeded to make his lunch. When he finished eating, he hurried into the studio to begin getting himself back home and reality. In spite of his desire to complete the painting as quickly as possible, Casey forced himself to remain focused and determined to get the details right as best as he could remember them.

It was still daylight when he set the brush down. The moment of truth had arrived. It was time to view the fruits of his efforts. He stepped out into the yard and turned to face the house. A big smile appeared on his face as he recognized his house.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, jubilant to be back home again.

He spun around to look to the street. The smiled disappeared from his face replaced by a deep frown. He walked to the edge of the yard and looked around. The street was there but it was not how he remembered it. “You’ve got to be kidding me”, he shouted angrily into the sky.

Casey felt his knees buckle a little and grabbed the fence to hold himself up. “What the hell is going on?” he said softly. Then looking up at the sky he said, “Have I died or something and this is some state of purgatory?”

“Casey, are you all right?” a woman’s voice penetrated his silence and he looked down to see a woman standing on the other side of the fence.

Momentarily startled by her appearance, Casey stepped back.

“Are you okay?” she asked a genuine look of concern in her eyes.

Casey stared at her then screwed his face up and said, “Who the hell are you?”

Looking back at him with an equal stare of puzzlement she said, “I’m Jeannette. Who else would I be?”

Getting more and more frustrated and aggravated, Casey snapped, “Jeannette who?”

Startled by his unexpected anger, Jeannette took a step backward. “Casey Donsett what is going on with you?”

Casey shook his head trying with all his will to recall who this person was but to no avail.

When he looked back at her, she could see the pure questioning in his eyes. She moved closer to the fence and gently touched his arm. “Casey, what’s happened?”

   (continued)

   Chelle Munroe(c)

   April 9, 2015