Why did he leave, weakness?

No dear, it started without a sign, no warning, it was that hurricane that... I told him it was too much but Cane he refused to listen.

Do you know how it ended, did he start somewhere else again?

I can't tell.

Such a hard working model.

He was a stuntman.

That doesn't sound safe but don't worry, he survived worse.

I miss him.

....

Are you sure that painter can be trusted?

_{Two Women (1880) -Winslow Homer}

Let's find a job. We can stay home or do something useful. You heard that guy and how he greeted us beautiful ladies he said, that means beautiful enough to get hired.

They had never worked but from what that painter had said it couldn't be too difficult. Sitting was how they mainly spent their day The needed answers and a bit of excitement wouldn't harm.

Do you still have his business card?

Clara hesitated but indeed she had saved it in her purse. Somehow that guy didn't feel as gentlemanly as he looked. She frowned and searched her memory for talks she had with Cane. She'd loved to listen to his stories but was never sure if these were real adventures or made up. The day he said he had to leave for a job had felt unnatural. Bahamas was what he had called it. Bah, she had thought, bah, and still she felt as if that bah place far away had taken him away from her. Cane didn't return and that painter... She was sure he knew more about his disappearance. How could it be a hurricane? It didn't make sense. Cane disappeared and that painter returned unharmed. I better keep the enemy near, she thought. She handed the card to her friend.

I will ask for transport, let's have a look and find out what happened.

What if...

We'll see. If that weirdo refuses to say a word we'll travel to that place. I'll find someone to escort us, don't worry. I am sure Cane is fine.

Within one hour the two arrived at the address mentioned on the card. The neighbourhood was kind of depressing and so was the building they entered.

It doesn't look as if anyone has been here recently. Look at that dust!

Clara tried not to sneeze and kept her handkerchief against her nose.

My gosh, what is that terrible smell?
Abrupt she stood still and gazed at the scenery in front of her.

Cane, she yelled before she collapsed.

Cane didn't die of sickness or the power of a hurricane. The back of a wooden brush was stabbed through his chest. He had survived years of misery and stunt work but was killed by a man's hand and nothing would bring him back among the living.

Be quick, pick your painting and write about it @sbamsoneu @grebmot @vwrites. See here for the contest hosted by @solperez.


Header/Photogrid: Canva
Picture painting: public domain
Prompts: weakness, sickness - @freewritehouse
1-8-2024
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