Writing Inspired by Art

What I Want
by Vabulous Me
(guest blogger and daughter) 

As inspired by The River, Bennecourt (by Monet)

Image from the The Art Institute of Chicago

Yawning, I stretched my arms and rested against the tree. There was a river before me, glittering, reflecting the big blue sky and the little cottages beyond. It was a relief to get away from the noise of the city streets that I had been next to for so long. I had managed to escape, but not before my mother shoved me into a cumbersome, itchy dress, which she said was a good outfit for outside. My anger at this subsided slightly by the soothing sound of the chirping of the birds. 

I noticed there were a couple of girls across the small body of water, climbing into a boat. After the boat floated in the water for only a few yards, one of the girls toppled out with a splash. I was feeling too unenergetic to do more than widen my eyes in shock. The young lady flailed her arms wildly as her friend was bending over the edge of the boat, trying to get the girl in the water out, her hat falling off in the commotion. I forced myself to get to my feet, but when I finally prevailed over my languor both girls were back to safety. Instead of bursting into tears over how their dresses were ruined, they were having trouble not falling straight back into the water again, they were laughing so hard. I blushed when I realized I was a little jealous. They didn’t care about their outfits and, probably, didn’t care or worry about getting in trouble. Maybe their parents didn’t mind.

Mine did.

Once more I leaned against the tree, sliding down to the grass, getting chips of bark in my neatly pinned up hair. Soon there was nothing to hear except the movement of the water, and, eventually, I was lulled to sleep.

“Jane!”

I woke up, startled to hear the sound of my name. I was spread out on the grass, my face pressed into a lily. When I sat up I saw that the vibrant blue was replaced by an orange sunset. The girls were gone.

A little boy of only ten stumbled into my view. It was my little brother, James. His face filled with obvious relief when he saw me. 

“There you are, Jane!” He sighed. “Mother almost sent out a search party, but Father said—oh, no…” he moaned, glancing at the small, green smudges on the bottom of my dress. “Mother’s going to—to—kill you!”

I laughed, and decided I didn’t mind. There wasn’t much I could do about it now as the grass stains had most likely been there for a while. Cheerfully, I smiled at James and he looked at me, trustingly.

“You know the way back, right? I wasn’t really paying attention…”

I took his hand and lead him away from the water, looking over my shoulder, slightly wistfully.

“Tomorrow, I’ll come back,” I whispered to no one in particular. And, I thought happily, if a little savagely, I’ll wear EXACTLY what I want to.