Oh…
"Hey! Get up you bum!"
Let me rest…
"Hey! Get out the
Fountain!"
"AH!"
Thames lets out a surprised yelp as he splashes water onto himself. He finds himself sitting in a concrete fountain, soaked from head to toe in a mixture of fountain water and sweat. He looks around and lets out a sigh of relief. He recognized it.
"You gonna get up man?!?"
Thames looks blankly at the man dressed in overalls and a brown shirt. He quickly jumps up and starts to climb out the fountain.
"Sorry James! I don't know how I got here!"
Thames raises his hands apologetically, and notices the half eaten honeycrisp in his left hand.
"Ya gotta quit hittin' the booze Thames! 'Specially in the middle of the week!"
James huffs, but walks away from the soaked Thames, muttering something about how Thames needs to stop throwing his life away. A few other familiar faces look at Thames strangely, but don't say anything.
"I'll.. Cut back.."
His voice trails off while he watches James quickly walk away. He turns towards the honeycrisp, but then at his dripping clothes.
Oh man this sucks..
He takes off his loose coat and hangs it over his shoulder. From the fountain he looks around at the six streets going in different directions, and starts to walk down the right one. Staring into the sky, watching the sun follow his path, he eventually makes it to a run down looking building.
From his pants pocket, he retrieves a silver key, and lifts up a lock on a sliding wooden door.
Click!
The lock flips open as he sticks the key in. He slides the door open loudly, but quickly closes it as he enters the building. Thames looks at his workshop, the paintings scattered and covered in dusts. A few have been covered by offwhite spare clothes too.
"Home sweet home.."
He grimacing as he feels an ensuing headache. He sets the apple next to a grey paint bucket and turns to his left towards a closed wooden door.
Leaving behind the dirty workshop, he opens the door, and enters a more homely room. Directly to his right is an old birch dresser with a silver mirror propped up. To the left is a twin sized bed with the white sheets all messed up.
Just as I left it..?
He thinks to himself as he tosses his coat onto a wooden hanger. Quickly, he gets himself changed out of the soaked clothes and into a loose fitting off white shirt. He pulls up grey dress pants and wraps an old and tattered leather belt around them.
At least it's not wet.. I gotta do laundry.
He thinks to himself while rubbing his neck. Hanging up the rest of his wet clothes, he walks back out into his workshop and finds an empty easel.
Hopefully I won't need this soon..
He hangs the clothes up on it. Looking around again at his messy workshop, he takes a canvas with a brilliant night sky painted on it. Taking the grey paint bucket, he quickly covers the night sky up with a blank sheet of grey.
He thinks deeply while watching the paint dry. An idea clearly burrows itself into his head as he walks around the workshop collecting various paints. He puts purple, black, white, blue, green, and yellow globs of acrylic paint onto his palette.
Pulling a stool up to the now dry, grey canvas, he sits in front of it.
He mutters to himself as he begins to mix a little of the green and black together. Using the darkened green he begins to paint the grass he found himself on in his dream.
Using the pitch black acrylic paint, he creates the looming figure of the blindfolded giant which stood atop the hill. He draws it reaching up towards the top of the canvas, then uses the purple and blue to paint the swirling stars above the being.
He uses the white paint to create an illusion of light casted onto the giant, but below the giant he draws a crude black figure of a small man on his knees.
He dots the sky of the painting with the yellow acrylic paint, then steps back to look at the canvas in full.
"The Blind Reader…"