Mahi's Tale
Mahi grabbed his fine haired paint brush and dabbed it in some red paint. Some of the paint dripped off onto his smock as he lifted the paintbrush away from the little jar of paint. He started to paint hair fine lines, he gently painted a face out onto the canvas. when he was satisfied with the outline he took some water and cleaned off the brush and dabbed it in some grey paint and began some of the finer details such as eyebrows and whiskers. He painted with surgical precision taking light quick strokes. He clean his paint brush, set it down on the table next to him and slid the stool back enough for him to get out. He walked over to a rack of various paints and grabbed a jar of yellow and non metallic gold, then poured about a quarter of them into the same jar. He returned the two jars to their respectable places on the shelf and put a lid on the newly created paint, shook it a few times until he was satisfied with the mixture and walked back to the canvas and sat down. He took the lid off and dabbed a slightly large brush into the now dark yellow paint and raised it to the painting, he took slow long wavy strokes taking time on the hair. He had always enjoyed art since he was a cub, it was a "natural born gift" his mother would tell him. He stopped painting at the thought of his mother and lowered his brush and tears filled his eyes. His mother had been murdered when he was only fourteen years old, that was twenty years ago. He still remembered her grey wolf body, her bright green eyes and blonde hair. He had been painting a picture of his mother, he would lay it at her grave. He clenched his fists and let out a cry of rage as he remembered her killer, his father. His father had been an alcoholic. And had come home drunk from work on day and had beaten him, his mother tried to stop him but he turned to him with rage filled eyes and started to rape her. She was devastated as he finally stopped, but it wasn't over, he went to the kitchen and came back with a serrated bread knife and stood over her ad she coward begging to be spared. It all happened in less then five seconds, he plugged his hand down and the knife went through her chest, then her heart and out the back of her torso. Mahi watched in horror as his lifeless mother lay bleeding on the living room floor, his father now turned to him and ripped the knife out of the dead wolfess with a sickening crack as he took his time walking on her dead body toward Mahi. He was now moving with a look of death on his face, Mahi scrambled to his feet and ran to the front door, it was to late his father has cut a deep gash across his back, Mahi roared in pain and managed to get the door open and darted out his father screaming and cursing loudly, the screaming had woken up some neighbors and the watched what was unfolding, a boy running from his father brandishing a bloody knife. Mahi only made it a few blocks before collapsing onto the the sidewalk his back bleeding severly. The police had found him bleeding and called am ambulance and he was rushed to the nearest hospital, the doctors spent 3 hours sewing up his back. When he finally came to, he was greeted by his friends and the police about what had happened, he had told the police about how his father had murdered his mother. In the next few months Mahi had been called to testify against his father in court, five months after the first trial his father had been sentenced to the death penalty. Mahi watched as his father was injected with a lethal chemicals, his father looked At him with a look of sorrow and remorse. Mahi just stared back inti the face of a man who had nearly killed him, he felt no pity or the man in the chair as his slumped over making his final convulsions and the doctor pronounced him dead. Mahi attended the burial and spat on his fathers grave as he said "Good riddance." he walked away head down as the rest of the family watched him leave. Mahi looked back at his painting, then he wiped his tears, took a few deep breaths and raised his brush and returned to painting. He soon finished about thirty minuets later with the hair, cleaned his brush and finished the painting with a bright green for the eyes. He leaned back on the stool and admired the painting, it looked exactly like he remembered his mother. He took the canvas and hung it on a hook sticking out of the wall, and returned looked out the window and walked to it. He admired the setting sun all it's hues and colors. "A picture worth a million words" he closed his eyes and felt the cool autumn air on his face as it darkened..