Fumbling with the tubes of color, so many unnecessary items cluttering up the desk, she pushed them all aside. Frustrated, she yelled aloud, “where are the reds? I wanted reds today!” Marion looked everywhere, almost frantic in her search. “I’m done with these sad blues and greens, I want bright red and orange, golden yellows! That’s what I need today. . .please. I can’t take another sad day.”
Marion was pleading with someone, only she knew who or what it was. Asking for help, asking for a remedy for her sadness, her depression. She used to be a jolly fun loving person, but now, hidden away in this ancient abode, with only her work to keep her company, she was drifting into a deep depression. Always having artistic talent, Marion was a sought after painter until tragedy struck her life. Her usually uplifting, sometimes even amusing work had turned dark. Her regular followers started disappearing, and her profitable career came to an end.
A recluse in her now dilapidated home, Marion painted constantly, striving every day to get back the happiness of her youth. She only had an occasional visit from the local art gallery owner, who brought her new painting supplies. He had watched her demise, but seemed unable to assist her in recovery. Michael continued to display her work, but Marion’s sadness was revealed in her work and lost its appeal.
Michael knocked and Marion answered with a plea, “I can’t find my reds, can you help me?” Of course Michael was startled after her only requesting blue hues for months, he hoped this was a good sign.
“Of course, Marion! What are you painting today?” He took the opportunity to open the heavy curtains to shed light on the empty canvas. “I see mostly blues and greens here, let me look further. ” Marion was hiding from the light, but let him search. He noticed dark canvases covered with blues and black. If he could only find the brighter colors, maybe this would be a turning point. He looked everywhere and found them.
Ending 1: He gave the tube and some other bright colors to Marion and watched her create something beautiful, at last. “You’re back, Marion!”
Ending 2: Not finding the red or any colorful tubes of paint, Michael told her he would be back straightaway with the needed colors. While Michael was gone, she looked around at the lightened room. There were cobwebs in the corners, dust laden furniture everywhere except the painting desk. The sun glinted off a mirror across the room. Marion went over to peek at herself, something she hadn’t done in months. Her reflection took her breath away, realizing she had grown old and haggard. Reasoning to herself she needed some color, red of course, she searched but could find none. There was only one thing to do.
Michael returned and rushed into the studio. He was so excited to think Marion would be painting again, recovered from months of sadness. “I have the new colors, all your favorites!” He saw the canvas, splashed with red, an odd brownish red. Then he saw Marion, on the floor, wrists draining blood, red blood.