The Painter by David MacMillan

The Painter by David MacMillan

The humans, they stream through here day after day. They pass by. Past my pen, and the pens of others. It appears that they are fascinated by us, by that I mean me and the others who live here. I don’t understand why we must be confined though. They could easily interact with us out there, at our homes. Almost all my life has been spent here, and I have studied them just as much as they have studied me. There are many types of humans. That is, they have different natures. I do not mean to boast, but I am able to easily recognize the signs of these natures. Who is content, who is upset. Who is happy, sad, etc.

I am also very good at picking up on those people who are harmful. They are ones who hurt others. Some are selfish predators; I see that in their eyes. And I have much time to consider this as I paint. I grab the brush with my trunk and fill the canvases they put in front of me. The colors and shapes just come to my mind. Painting is my passion now. It gives me pleasure, and it is also an outlet for my creativity. I paint, and when I am finished the humans are very happy with the results.  They look at my work and then back at me with great smiles. Often, they reach out to pet me.

But there is one man who became angry when I painted a picture for him. It turned out to be a very dark picture. I used dark colors. It was what I felt coming off him. He looked at me as if I knew some secret about him. In a way I suppose I did, although not the specifics of course. The humans noticed the painting. Nobody smiled at it. Up to then, for the people in front of him, I used mostly bright colors.

Most days there is a long line of humans waiting to get one of my paintings. I am very popular, I must confess, not that I am vain about it. But I don’t ever see humans line up like this to see anyone else. Nor are any of the others who live here able to paint like me. Not even the other elephants. They are not as interested in humans as I am.

My caretaker is Suzy, a kind person whom I am very fond of. She has told me she thinks I am very smart since I always seem to know what she is thinking. It makes me laugh when she says that. I understand a lot of the words that humans use. I know what she is going to feed me or when she will return. I understand when she talks about some other things, but not all.

The man has come back a couple of times now; I recognized him right away. He stands in the line and waits for his turn to get a painting. But still, I choose to use dark colors when I paint for him. When Suzy hands him the painting he glares at me. I look back at him in return.

Something different happened today.  The man returned, but this time he handed Suzy a painting of three people: a portrait. The man wanted me to paint over it. I studied it for a moment, then looked at Suzy to see if she was sure about this. I saw that one of the figures in the portrait was him, albeit a bit younger. The other was a female, and the last one was a child. This must be his mate and his offspring. Suzy looked unsure and asked the man if he really wanted me to paint over his portrait. He said yes and pushed it towards her. Then he looked at me. My tail twitched a bit, but I picked up my brush and began. I paused for a second as I looked back at the man. His gaze was upon the female in the picture. His face showed remorse and something else. Was it guilt? I didn’t need to see anymore, I understood.

I put my brush into the tray and selected a color, then applied it. I painted a large red line across the female’s torso. But I left her face alone. Then I drew a line between her and the others, separating them. I pulled my brush back and tilted my head slightly. I reached for the color that matches the changing shapes that float in the sky, the white. I brought my trunk over and down. The brush picked up the color. Looking back at my work, I resumed. I made a circle shape, like those that float high above. It was right over her head. It was her now, I believed. Suzy and the man were very still as they watched me. I paused. My tail twitched again as I pondered what to do next. It wasn’t finished. I picked red again and reached out and drew a red circle around the man. Yes, that is it, I’m finished. This reflects what happened.

The female has gone away, and it was by his hand. I put my brush down and cleared my mind. Suzy’s mouth hung open. She swallowed and took the finished painting. Clumsily she handed it back to the man. He looked at it with wide eyes, which narrowed as he turned back to me. He did not like that I knew. I watched as he grabbed the painting from Suzy and stomped away. I did not expect to see him again.

In the coming days I painted what I felt for people; bright colors that made me feel good. Many young ones smiled and waved at me. They tried to touch me and pet me. I smiled back at them.

One day I caught a glimpse of the man I now called the “dark one” walking past my pen. No one else observed him, and Suzy did not notice him. He looked at me but did not stop. That night after the last of the humans had left, I was back in my pen eating my food. It was already dark. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Suzy had left.  I went to the back of my enclosure and began my calming process which I do before I go to sleep. I thought another pleasant day was over. I closed my eyes. Then I heard something, a slight clicking noise. My ears went out and I listened. Then there were shuffling sounds, and a clang of the metal fence. I focused my eyes on something coming out of the darkness. I was getting ready to defend myself, this was unusual, not right. I watched and waited; my muscles tensed.

Then I saw it was him! The dark one approached. He shouldn’t be here, he has gone against the order of things. He was here when no other humans were around. At first, I could not fathom why. I thought about that and realized that was his plan. Humans corrected each other’s behavior, alone he would have no such constraints. I started to shift back and forth on my feet. My trunk began to sway. Then I managed to stop myself. I watched in stillness as he approached.

“There you are.” He spoke with a tone I had not heard before; his lip was curled up slightly. He came closer and stood a few feet away. I did not move but looked back at him. I know I could have overpowered him. A human is small compared to me. I could easily knock him down, but I do not like the idea of doing such things. Also, there are social rules the humans apply to all situations. I do not know how they would react to such a thing, even though I felt I was protecting myself. So, I just stood there, and waited.

He put his hands on his hips and stood there. I saw that he had a bag with him, it was hanging over his shoulder.  He removed it and lowered it to the ground. He took some items out which I recognized immediately. There were canvases, several of them, and a stand to place them on. Then he got out other objects out that he proceeded to work on for a minute and it became a small table. He placed a paint trey on it and finally he placed a brush there. I was beginning to understand.

I expected him to place a blank canvas on the stand, but instead he placed a portrait there. It was the same woman as before. But she was alone in this picture. I studied it for a second. It showed her from the waist up, in green clothing. She appeared healthy and strong. I looked at her face. To me, her expression gave off a strange desperation, even though she smiled. Then he looked at me and said some words.

“Now paint. Show me.” A silence fell for a moment. He spoke again, this time faster, and in a raised voice. “Show me that you know what I have had to bear on my own.”

The man started to sob. He put his face in his hands. I’ve seen humans do this when they feel terrible pain. Then quickly, he raised his head and looked long and hard at me. His gaze moved slowly across my face, settling on my right eye.

“You know, don’t you? What I’ve done.” He paused for a moment. “Paint.” He said in a low voice.

I understood much of what he said. But there was more. He was feeling a sadness that tormented him, and a guilt he could not escape. These types of feeling are strongest when one has done something themself to cause it. But he was also angry. I suspected he was always angry, even when he did not show it. He was angry at me, and at the female in the portrait. This human is not well. I believe the female is no more because of him.

 He wanted me to paint something for him that would absolve him. He wanted me to show that his goodness, so that I might make his guilt go away. That would have required me to use my normal bright colors, I could not do that. Why he focused his expectations on me I didn’t know. His mind did not think well, I could see that. I eased forwards a little, getting into my familiar stance. I looked at the trey in front of me, then I began. I picked up the brush and dipped it in the red paste. I drew red lines up and down both side of her face, then I dipped my brush into the trey again. The dark one was watching me intently. I applied black paste, and I painted up and down and around with it.  Soon the woman’s face was obliterated. Then I stopped painting and put the brush down. I was finished. He looked at me, would he leave now I wondered.

“You blame me!” He sputtered “You, you believe I could have done such a thing?” His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “You’re just a damn elephant, a stupid animal. Why do you think you know anything?”

I stood there looking at him, my ears started to wave a bit.

“The way you look at me, what is it with you!” He stepped back and rubbed his face, then he let out a sigh. Again, he looked at me and I looked back at him nervously. “But somehow you do know don’t you. I could tell the way you looked at me the first day I saw you. Like you were Judging me. But you don’t know how much I loved her.”

He looked away; I saw his eyes become moist. The dark one went from anger to sadness quickly. He is unpredictable. He turned and started to walk slowly away with his back to me, his head down. Then turned and again came towards me again.

“You will paint me a new painting. Show me!” In fast jerking movements he removed the portrait and placed a blank canvas on the stand.  I looked at it then back to him again.

“You’ll do it!” 

Yes, I thought to myself.  I dipped my brush into the brown paste and raised it to the canvas. I drew a line all the way across. It was somewhat crocked, but it looked good. Then I drew a short red line under the brown one. That showed him, the dark one, under the ground. All our bodies enter the ground after we go away. I looked at the man, he was wearing a black cap as he always did. I put some black color at the end of the red line, just a small dab. The work was more intricate than I usually do, but the black spot came out well. Then I reached back with my trunk and applied a different color to my brush. I create a green object in the sky. Its shape did not matter. His mate wore green. Then a blue shape near the bottom, his child in that color. It looked very good.

I raise my head high and changed my stance to get ready for the last part. Another red line with another black dab in the sky. Next, I put the brush into the white paste and applied it. I made the white fluff in the sky circle both the dark one and his mate. One more stroke connected his soul in the sky to his body. I was finished.  I swayed gently from side to side as I gazed at it. It was what I knew. After a few seconds I put my brush down and looked at the man. My tail- it was twitching.

The dark one looked at me and took the canvas into his hands. He held it in front of him and stared at it. His eyes widened as he studied it. His lips curled up at first. But slowly they came down. I watched as he pushed back the cap on his head. He took his time and I saw he understood what I painted.

It showed he and his mate floating in the sky. At the end all our souls go to become part of the sky. They were surrounded by the white fluff that also floats there. His offspring stood on the ground. The dark one’s body was under the earth. He was no more. And that was how it had to be. A white line went from his dead body to his soul in the sky. If he wanted to be with her, he had to let go of this world. I saw he understood.

“Yes! Yes! That’s it, you see it” The dark one kept his eyes on the painting as he spoke.

“I was starting to doubt you, but you’re right. It’s the only way for me to be with Sophia again.”

I had to be certain he knew what I meant. I reached out to him with my brush and painted a red line on his chest. I lowered my head slightly and looked down at him. He looked down at the new mark on him, then away into the darkness.

“It’s the only way. The only way to be with her.  And the only way to stop the demons that will not leave me.”

He stood still for a moment, and I thought to myself how quiet the night was. Then suddenly he started grabbing his things and pushed them hurriedly into the bag he had brought. When he had everything gathered up, he stopped and gave me one more look. Then he left, disappearing into the darkness.  I heard a metal clang in the distance. He was gone and I could finally relax. I went back to the far end of my pen; sleep came surprisingly quickly since I was exhausted.

The next few weeks after that everything was back to normal. I again enjoyed seeing people smile and laugh when they saw my work. Then one day I received a package from Suzy. It was a sent from someone who had visited the zoo and wanted to give me a present. I was very curious to see what was in the package, we opened it together. Suzi and I both stared at a painting, it was of me! It was quite good I thought. It showed me standing in my pen. In the sky above, surrounded in white, were a man and woman. The faces were easily recognizable as the dark one and his mate. The painting was quite lovely, done by a human with great skill I thought. Suzy did not understand what it meant; I could see her furrowed brow as she studied it. But it was obvious to me, the dark one was in the sky with his mate now. I suppose I gave him the answer that he already knew.

But one thing about it caught my eye. Through the portrait of me, was drawn a bright red line. Did he think I would feel guilt or torment from his death? That seemed to be what the red line inferred. But it must be the thoughts of his unwell mind. I feel content and happy that he is now where he wanted to be, at peace.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright David MacMillan