Micahlangelo's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Micahlangelo pushed his cart across the village square at dawn. His Sith robes dragged through the grass. The painting rode beside him, wrapped in cloth. Today, the traveling art fair would judge him. Today, he wanted one word from his wife. Just okay. The fair's stone hall rose at the center of the square. Vines spilled over its arches. Bright banners hung from the ceiling. Artists carried easels up the steps. Micahlangelo gripped his cart tighter and walked past the hall toward the open lawn. He found an empty wooden pavilion with a canvas roof. Moss crawled up the support beams. He unwrapped the painting and set it on the platform. The Sith lord on the cliff stared out at the crowd. Three weeks of work, finally on display. Next to him, another artist hung a huge canvas. A hooded Sith rode a snarling velociraptor across it. Red light cut the air. People stopped. They pointed. They laughed and clapped. No one looked at Micahlangelo's cliff. A gray chubby kitten waddled up and sniffed his boot. An orange tabby followed, rubbing against the easel leg. Micahlangelo crouched. He scratched the kitten's ear. The cats stayed. The people did not. Then a woman in a paint-stained apron stopped in front of his canvas. She studied the robes, the cliff, the sky. She gave a single, slow nod. Then she walked on. Micahlangelo stood up straight. His hands were shaking. It wasn't his wife. But it was something. He looked back at his painting and knew he needed more.