Ahndrian Archives

“I forgot all about you!” I praised, feeling excited for the first time in longer than I cared to admit, even to myself. “Wow, you look like my coffee.” I teased at the small glass jar, as I ripped off the tattered tag with my teeth and examined the contents inside.

The dark liquid was thick, resembling slime as it sloshed around, while I bobbed the bottle from side to side. “I cannot remember where I even picked you up at...” I thought out loud, excitedly grabbing a fresh palette plate from the tray attached to the leg of my easel.

Eagerly I poured a few drops out, taking my time to contemplate what brush would do this the most justice, not really giving much thought to anything else. It was almost like I was on autopilot. Like the moment my eyes glimpsed at the quirky option I was sucked into a trance.

My movements were fluid as if I were dancing. Carelessly I drifted across the room, plucking a wedged sponge from the table before quickly bouncing back to my stool. For the first time, my mind was clear in the best ways, I didn’t have to think. All I had to do was move. I was in the zone, and it was glorious.

By the time I came back into full consciousness, I was presented with a portrait, something that I had never felt compelled to do. To me, painting a person only fed into the egotistical ways that made humans ugly. Greed, selfishness, vanity, they were all plagues on the world. That is precisely why I had always chosen nature over people.

But this being, this woman who I had never seen before, she was pure. Using only darkness to shade and create her, she was still able to have depth, personality, and emotion. So much emotion, yet I was unable to determine which. She looked like she felt everything, all at once.

“You. You are alive.” I spoke softly to my painting. “A warning to all who have doubted me.”

I reluctantly abandoned my coffee cup to the floor, which had become more of an extension of my left hand than a refreshment and stood up to stretch. I wasn’t sure how many hours I had been awake at this point, but I was certain that sleep was the next thing on my to-do list.

Feeling accomplished, I stumbled my way towards my bedroom, plopping myself down on my plush piece of heaven, and closed my eyes. My mind replayed all that had conspired, the self-doubt, Carolyn’s constant interference, and how despite everything, I still produced art. Real art.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up to the annoying sound of buzzing from my phone. Despite that, the feeling of pride greeted me. Any other time that my phone disturbed me, I’d be furiously annoyed. But today, right now, I was almost thankful for the irritating noise.

I sprung out of bed, rushing down the hall, fervently ready to look at the realness I had fashioned from my imagination alone. When, out of nowhere, I was hit with a wave of sadness. I only had a small bottle of whatever that mixture was and still, no memory of where it came from.

“Oh, that’s right! The tag!” I called out, rounding the corner to my studio. “You’re just going to have to wait, Carolyn.” I snapped at my phone still buzzing on the floor as I swooped up the tag.

“What the fuck?” I questioned, “What’s an Ahndri?” Instantly, something odd clicked in my brain, an unlocked a memory slowly emerged from my subconscious.