fragmented portraits

from deleted story blog october 2005. This will eventually be a page in one of my novels if i ever get to it. It's about psychological associations and importance of memories to an artist who has lost her sense of self as well as part of her memory after a horrible accident. lol no i still don't know what happened to her just that she's sitting at the shrink's for this scene....

fragmented portraits part 1-

"What did you want to be when you were young?" the voice faded into darkness as she closed her eyes. There used to be color there and she was confused by the darkness. Her mind raced to remember the colors.

The world was full of life and color. A gentle breeze pulled against her summer dress causing it to swish around her ankles. She blinked a curly strain of hair out of her eyes and was standing in front of a half painted canvas. She placed the brush in her mouth and pulled her hair back into its style.

"You should do something about those bangs" he said wrapping her in his arms from behind. She took the paint brush from between her teeth and kissed his cheek.

"If not for them getting in my face I would only take a break to change canvases."

"So how are my two favorite girls?"

"I hope you know it's going to be a boy." He started tickling her and she squirmed under his touch. "Alright you win we're fine now quit"

"I know I know you're painting" he kissed her forehead and walked back into the house leaving her on the patio. She brushed another strand of hair from her face and closed her eyes welcoming in the colors.

It was dark again; Dark cold and lonely. She was terrified but she blinked again and lights flooded in. A male voice exerted itself somewhat agitated. "What did you want to be when you were young?"

"I've always wanted to be a painter."

[end part 1]