“When a man wantonly destroys one of the works of man we call him a vandal. When he destroys one of the works of god we call him a sportsman.”
~ Joseph Wood Krutch
"Vandalism happens in almost all cemeteries around the world.. It has for hundreds of years.. Young people seem to be addicted to it."
~ Terry Page
"Vandalism costs... cover items such as graffiti removal, broken swings, burned equipment and broken equipment in general."
~ Bob Ferguson
Weekend Wordsmith gave the word vandal for it's weekend prompt this week.. I have no excuse for not posting it before tonight.. I could give a few but the truth is that I was simply tired and didn't take the time to type it up.. I write all in one sitting so it's not like I could have asked someone else to type it for me.. Maybe you will enjoy it enough to forgive it's being posted on Monday! Have a great night!
The old mansion sat way back on its lot.. Creepy.. old..oak trees with twisted..reaching arms hanging with Spanish moss.. sheltered it from the main road.. Settled into the deep shadows..It appeared abandoned and empty...its front shutters hung split and lopsided....the hand carved frame of a screen door banged and slammed with the slightest breeze.. It was the perfect spot for a brave.. budding young artist to paint his newest mural.. Spray cans in every pocket the lone despoiler crawled through the old gates and slipped silently along the cobblestone path in the dark.. Unaware that he was not alone... he knew no fear.. The lust to create singing through his veins.. he was elated to have found such a wonderful new canvas.. Mapping the huge mansion in his minds eye.. he imagined room after room of his art.. It would be his own gallery and he intended to fill it with his best works..
Shana shook her hair back from her eyes.. and stepped from the sting of the hot shower.. she had been practicing her invisibility spell when the young hoodlum had suddenly stepped boldly into her house.. lighting a few stubby candles... he had began spraying everything in his path with purple and green paint.. She had been forced to stand silent and still as he painted her and the ball room wall with can after can of bright colors.. Hours and hours he had worked on his masterpiece.. sometimes stepping back and surveying his art from many different angles.. Shana had been totally drained by the time he had looked at his time piece and gathered up his empty cans.... he had walked around the room and mumbled to himself about the depth and shading of his graffiti before finally stepping up to the wall to run his rough palms over the images there.... letting his hang linger on her left breast as if he could feel her heartbeat hidden beneath his painting.. as soon as he had disappeared down the path with a contented whistle.. she had leaped from the painting and ran for the shower .. hoping to wash away his paint and his touch.... Had he looked back he would have been surprised to see the bright lights shining from the tower rooms...
Dressed in a warm sweat shirt and old jeans.. with a cup of peppermint tea to replenish her spirit.. Shana leaned against the doorway to the ballroom and surveyed the mural on the farthermost wall.. with the exception of the blank spot in the shape of her outline.. the painting of the dragon was quiet good.. It actually looked as if the body of a woman had stepped from the creatures heart.. Shana was impressed.. bending low she sought a name.. she had long ago learned that almost all artists sign their work in some way.. She couldn't believe it!! Was it even possible..? Her Granny May would have been elated!! YES!!.. It said... Newton Blue..
Running for the kitchen Shana snapped her fingers and fanned away dust as the large.... leather bound.. spell book struck the work table with a thump.. turning the pages of Granny May's old book with a slight flick of the fingers she hoped she had remembered right.. The rarest ingredient.. the most sought after...long lost.. and then she found it... an ingredients list... one frog leg.. one bat wing.. an ants breath and the eye of a Newt--blue...
With a snap of her fingers and a toss of her head Shana was tucked into her tower room bed.. her cat.. wisdom.. was snuggled next to her feet and her new dress hung on the closet door.. She had to get up early tomorrow morning.. She had a hunt to begin.. she had conjured up the uniform she would need to attend the fancy private school.. She allowed herself one shiver as she thought about the earlier touch of the hooligan.. She would feel no pity.. She would capture the rarest ingredient.. She would make Granny May proud.. Tomorrow she would zip herself into the ugly plaid uniform dress and carry a navy blue backpack.. her hair would shine and her eyes would sparkle with a youthful glow.... she would even have a tiny wiggle in her walk.. Tomorrow she would be a new girl.. lost and confused in a new school.. Tomorrow she would catch the most sought after ingredient.. Tomorrow... she would capture the eye of Newt!..
Written By: Patricia Sawyer