The Painted Woman

This strange bit of a story was inspired by a picture I saw on Paul Aronson’s most recent post ->   https://pauldaronson.wordpress.com/2017/02/03/so-whats-next/  .  I saw that picture and it totally spoke this story to me. I may have played with/altered the colors a little.  😀

She painted her face in sharped sky greens and in Heaven sent blues.

Angry red glommered under her eyes.

Yellow and black soared from her brow-line into her hair

Orange saturated her throat and vined up into her ears.

Violent slashes of violet streaked her upper lip while wild plum blotted her lower lip.

But she didn’t stop with her face.

The colors ran down her body all the way down to her toenails.

There was no rhythm, no pattern, no way to see it and understand it. There was no way to see the woman buried in the colors. No way to know what race she was, what true color her skin could be.

The only hint was the bronzed brown of her angry eyes.

Everyone watched her where ever she went.

And she always went alone.

Angry.

Proud.

And alone.