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    Art Inspires Words: Art Inspires Series, #2
    Art Inspires Words: Art Inspires Series, #2
    Art Inspires Words: Art Inspires Series, #2
    Ebook223 pages3 hours

    Art Inspires Words: Art Inspires Series, #2

    By Erin Lee, EL George, C. Cotton and

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    About this ebook

    Famous French impressionist Edgar Degas said, "Art is not what you see, but what you make others see." With that sentiment in mind, Crazy Ink accepted submissions from numerous authors who choose from two dozen paintings in the public domain. From the painting each one picked, the writer was to develop a short story for this collection. They could use the painting as inspiration for their story in any fashion they wished. Authors could take a scene set in medieval times and create a story set in the twenty-first century; writers could have the painting stolen or destroyed and write a mystery; or they could simply reflect on the colors, shapes, or mood of the painting to decide which direction their stories would take.

    Writers take inspiration from their experiences and those of others. They also harvest the colors, tastes, smells, tactile stimulus, and sounds around them, and the world in which they reside or wish they could to write their tales. Henry David Thoreau wrote, "This world is but a canvas to our imagination."

    For this anthology, Art Inspires Words, we literally gave the writers a painted canvas to spark their creativity. The only limitation set on each author was that the famous painting he/she selected must be the muse for the story. That's how the stories you are about to read were created. Art inspired more art, this time in the form of words. Relax in your most comfortable space and enjoy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCrazy Ink
    Release dateOct 2, 2018
    ISBN9781386407294
    Art Inspires Words: Art Inspires Series, #2
    Author

    Erin Lee

    Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

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      Book preview

      Art Inspires Words - Erin Lee

      Crazy Ink

      COPYRIGHT 2018 BY CRAZY Ink

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

      Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

      Book Layout by Crazy Ink

      Cover design by Crazy Ink

      Edits by Samantha Talarico

      Art Inspires Words/Crazy Ink—1st ed.

      For those who see the stories

      behind the art.

      Famous French impressionist Edgar Degas said, Art is not what you see, but what you make others see. With that sentiment in mind, Crazy Ink accepted submissions from numerous authors who chose from two dozen paintings in the public domain. From the painting each one picked, the writer was to develop a short story for this collection. They could use the painting as inspiration for their story in any fashion they wished. Authors could take a scene set in medieval times and create a story set in the twenty-first century; writers could have the painting stolen or destroyed and write a mystery; or they could simply reflect on the colors, shapes, or mood of the painting to decide which direction their stories would take.

      Writers take inspiration from their experiences and those of others. They also harvest the colors, tastes, smells, tactile stimulus, and sounds around them, and the world in which they reside or wish they could to write their tales. Henry David Thoreau wrote, This world is but a canvas to our imagination.

      For this anthology, Art Inspires Words, we literally gave the writers a painted canvas to spark their creativity. The only limitation set on each author was that the famous painting he/she selected must be the muse for the story. That’s how the stories you are about to read were created. Art inspired more art, this time in the form of words. Relax in your most comfortable space and enjoy.

      Note: All artwork included in this work is copyright free and in the public domain.

      Featuring

      Visiting Hours by Tiffany Carby

      Lost Samurai by Kathia Iblis

      Through His Eyes by C. Cotton

      Dégustation and Divorce

      by Marolyn Krasner

      Visiting Joe by EL George

      Finding Home by Michele Shriver

      Sixth Position by Erin Lee

      Still Life: Tea Set by Jean Etienne Liotard, a Swiss painter, who started work as a miniatures painter, (1702-1789), was painted from 1781-1783 with oil on canvas mounted on board. It is part of the J. Paul Getty Museum collection and is in the public domain. The J. Paul Getty Museum has not been involved in the creation of this anthology, and the mention of its name does not mean that it endorses the project.

      Author Note: As a child, I remember a silver tea set sitting on a special teacart in our house. I was fascinated with it and when I saw the painting Still Life. Tea Set, by Jean-Etienne Liotard, it brought back memories from my childhood. Hattie May has a similar tea set in her home and through a series of events, she claims her house keeps getting ransacked by bandits and the tea set is left in disarray. Luckily, some familiar faces come to her rescue and together they work to solve the mystery.

      TIFFANY CARBY

      Visiting Hours

      Chapter One

      D etective Ellison, the deep voice said as he answered the desk phone.

      Son, I’m sorry to bother you again, I just didn’t have it in me to call the station and have the sheriff's deputy down here at the house again, the old man’s shaky voice worried his grandson.

      Pap, it’s no problem, you know you can call me anytime, he reassured him. What’s going on?

      It’s Hattie May again..., his grandfather said and that was all it took for him to hang up the phone and head in that direction.

      The short drive across the small town of Spring City, Kentucky, took fewer minutes than Detective Matthew Ellison could count on one hand. He visited his grandfather every summer as a kid and was very pleased when a Detective position opened at the Spring City precinct a few years back, and he could transfer to a familiar town. Eastern Kentucky University was less than an hour’s drive from his grandfather's home, and he had become much closer to his Pap when he started his college courses after he graduated high school. It had been ten years since he went off to major in criminal justice and then started working in Lexington when he received his degree four years later.

      Turning down the streets, weaving past the Verboden Mansion that had been turned into a bed and breakfast and into the entrance of Lincolnshire Estates, went the unmarked cruiser. His grandfather lived in a spread out subdivision just on the edge of town.

      I’m sorry, again, Matthew, his grandfather said to him as he was getting out of his car. His co-workers called him Ellison. His friends called him Matt, and his older friends called him Eli. However, his grandfather insisted on calling him Matthew. Duke Matthew Ellison was his grandfather’s name and he always said he never felt right when someone called him Matt. He was a Matthew, and he carried those feelings on to his grandson.

      Don’t apologize, Pap, he said as he shut the car door, walked up the driveway, and climbed the steps onto the side porch overlooking the neighbor’s home. The lovely Hattie May Henson had been having some rough spells lately, and they were all afraid she might be exhibiting early signs of Alzheimer's. Thankfully after a few minutes with his grandfather, the ruckus across the way quietened, and Hattie May emerged out her back door as a stray cat followed behind her and scurried off into the grass.

      Hattie May? You alright, honey? Duke raised his voice and called to her.

      Duke, is that you? Hattie May’s eyesight was failing her, but she could tell there were two gentlemen on Duke’s porch.

      Yes’em, it’s me and my grandson, Matthew, he said. We’ll walk on over to you, just have a seat on your porch and rest a minute, Duke was an old friend of Hattie May’s, and she only obeyed him for that very reason. The old bitty did not take orders from just anyone.

      Matthew, honey? Can you believe this has happened to me again? He shook his head as he approached and took a seat on her porch swing. I swear it’s those damn bandits!

      Now, as she would not take orders from just anybody, this prim and proper lady also had a little crush on her neighbor that spanned several decades and didn’t seem to dissipate at all over the years. Hattie May also was not a cusser, but when things got out of hand she was not afraid to speak her mind.

      Did you happen to see the bandits, this time, ma’am? Matt asked Hattie May.

      Of course not! They’re fast! They ransack my house every time and then leave before I get even a look at them!

      Were they in the house just a little bit ago, ma’am?

      Matt was trying not to offend her, but this same shenanigan had been happening week after week for months, and they had lost track of how long it had been going on. Duke knew he could not call the police (at least not the main phone number of the Spring City precinct) or they would have Hattie May in the nursing home taking crazy pills, so Matt was really the only other option.

      They had to be! One minute my house is immaculate and the next it looks like someone has taken a bulldozer through it, Hattie May practically harrumphed.

      Let’s take a stroll inside, and you can show me, Matt said to her as he helped her out of the lawn chair.

      I’ll stay right here, ’til y’all are through, Duke said to his grandson, giving them some space.

      Matt opened the door for Hattie May, as any proper gentleman would, and she went inside first. He wiped his wet boots on the doormat as he entered the home. There was nothing out of the ordinary...other than an obvious mess that had been made. There were no weapons, nothing was torn up, no blood anywhere, no signs of a struggle, just a mess. Her garbage can had been turned over and her tea set had been rustled around, knocking the cups and things out of their places. A cleaning bucket had been turned over and a bottle of cleaner was on its side on the floor.

      That was it.

      Ma'am, unfortunately, I don't see any foul play or anything that provides any evidence that someone was in your house. Were your doors unlocked or open earlier today?

      Matt tried his best to find some kind of criminal activity, but nothing was there. If they were bandits as Hattie May had described, they were likely just kids messing around and running in the back door of her house and right back out the front door. He didn't even see muddy footprints or anything along the carpets, which would have been evident had someone actually entered the house through either entrance.

      Nobody believes me, Matthew! Hattie May did not answer his question; frustrated, she just yelled at him.

      I believe you, ma’am, don’t you fret, he calmed her down. I’m just trying to figure out exactly what happened, so we can prevent it from happening again.

      He wasn’t sure if he believed her or not, but he knew she thought what she was telling him was the truth and that was all that mattered.

      After an hour combing through her house, he settled her down in her living room chair and left her to watch her favorite soap opera, Visiting Hours.

      My stories are coming on, Matthew, so I’ll need to get to them, she told him.

      I’ll do some more investigating and let you know if there’s anything else I can come up with, he said and left the house through the back door. Duke was still sitting on the porch enjoying the sunshine and petting the stray cat. 

      Ever give that cat a name? Matthew asked his grandfather.

      I call him all sorts of different things, but lately I’ve called him Domino, he said.

      Domino? ‘Cause he’s white with black spots?

      That and because he’s clumsy and when he knocks one thing over, the train wreck follows.

      Matthew couldn’t help but laugh at his Pap.

      I’m heading back to the station to see if I can come up with an idea to help with Hattie May’s issues, so I’ll call you later. He hugged him and went back to his cruiser. "Don’t forget that this is all off the books where I’m concerned, or Hattie May may just find herself in a retirement community."

      Chapter Two

      Well, I swear, Eli...it’s been years since I’ve seen your number come up on my cell phone, I’m surprised I recognized it! Quinn Hanson said after she answered the phone.

      Now Quinn, it's been a while, yes, but you wouldn't forget an old friend, would you?

      I suppose not. I did lose my phone a few months back and all my contacts along with it, so you really are lucky I didn’t just send you to voicemail. To what do I owe this phone call?

      Well, aren’t you Miss Prim-and-Proper living in the big city?

      Even years later, you still get under my skin, Eli Ellison. I'm gonna have to get back to work in a minute, I just happened to be on break when you called, she said. And Louisville isn't the big city!

      It is compared to Spring City. Listen, I won’t keep you, I know you’ve got to get back to work, but there’s been some trouble lately at Hattie May’s. She thinks bandits are ransacking her house, and it’s happening about once a week.

      Uh yeah, that sounds a bit ridiculous, she said as if she was questioning the news he was relaying.

      Exactly, it sure does, but if someone doesn’t come and help get her situation figured out, the next time she, or anyone around her, calls 911 for this kind of disturbance, I fear she’ll end up in the funny farm.

      I’ve worked a lot of overtime lately and I’m off beginning tomorrow for an extra-long weekend, Quinn said. Sounds like I need to make a trip to Spring City to see if Grams needs any help around the house.

      HI GRAMS! THE SWEET voice said over the phone as she drove east toward Spring City.

      Hello, my sweet Quinn! I've missed you!

      I’ve missed you too! Sorry to call on such short notice, but I got a few unexpected days off from work and thought I might come stay with you for a long weekend? Would you mind the company? she asked, knowing the answer would be yes, but being polite nonetheless.

      Of course! I would love the company. Let me go see what's in the freezer that I can unthaw to cook for you.

      Hattie May practically flung the phone down but stopped when she heard Quinn's protests.

      Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d love to pick us up a couple sandwiches and shakes from Double Dippin’ and then we can worry about cooking tomorrow night.

      Quinn didn’t want her Grams to go to any extra trouble for her, and she wanted to feel out the situation with the proposed bandits before anything else happened.

      See you in a few hours, Quinn said, hoping that was all it took with Eli before she was able to go on out to her grandmother’s house with takeout from their favorite place in town.

      Before she hung up the phone with her Grams, she had reached the city limits of town and would soon be pulling into the Spring City precinct. 

      Quinn walked into the precinct wearing black leggings that made everything she owned look good and sandals that showed off the calf muscles she’d acquired from being on her feet all day, every day. Her tunic brought out the blue specks in her blue/gray eyes, and the peek of cleavage made several officers inside turn and look.

      Any day I don't have to wear scrubs is bound to be a good day, she said quietly to herself and smiled as she approached the receptionist.

      May I help you?

      Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for Detective Ellison, Quinn told her.

      The receptionist pointed to an office in the corner of the large open room behind her. Most of the desks were empty, and Quinn assumed the officers that were assigned to them were out on patrol. She walked down the open aisle and noticed the lights weren’t on in the office, but instead lamps were lit and the coldness found outside his door wasn’t welcome there. His office was inviting and Quinn suddenly wanted to be inside and in the midst of his company.

      Tap, tap, she lightly knocked on the door. From where she was standing, he could not see who had knocked, but responded anyway.

      Come on in, he said, and Quinn quietly turned the doorknob and stepped into his office. His

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