Gray's Canvas

I hate it personally. The art itself is subpar, not dreadful but amateur at best.

That isn't why I hate it

I hate it because it reminds me of my childhood friend who I found hanging from his ceiling fan, rotten beyond recognition because evidently, I was the only one who cared if he existed in the first place.

The Awkwardly large, space consuming canvas takes up the entire wall above my dresser. It depicts a dreary old rundown English estate, a barely functioning swing set and a sinister willow tree. To the bottom left of the canvas reads a single word, 'GRAY'

I am unsure if this was the artist's name, or the name of the artwork.

I unearthed it two weeks ago, when clearing out my mother's basement.

She didn't seem to know who made it, or recall the name Gray.

I couldn't bring myself to throw it away, in my mind attributing this anomalous art to my deceased friends likeness. It is unwanted, but tolerated. It doesn't belong anywhere, so it is forced to fit. Is that not like him? Christ, I think I need to talk to a professional about him.

-

I noticed something about Gray, and then something crazy happened.

I've stared so long at this art before I'm sure he wasn't there before.

There was a little boy in the window, dressed in formal black.

He was crying.

I chalked it up to an oversight on my part, the boy blends in so well.

That was when I noticed, another boy. I know, it doesn't sound crazy at all.

This boy was dressed in yellow though, for christs sake. A yellow raincoat in a gray depressing artwork. There is no way I could have missed that. This...

This wasn't there before.

-

I showed Gray to a group of my friends.

They didn't really care about it, nor the strange children in that no named estates windows.

I can't say I blame them, like I said, the artwork itself is subpar.

-

3 friends, I showed it to 3 different people. There are now 3 more children in the artwork. 1 girl and 2 boys. That makes 5 people now.

I tried calling them about it, and I think they're getting worried about me. they don't believe any of it. Probably think I made it and edit it myself, some sort of mid life crisis breakdown.

-

Every day I wake up, and the children are in a different place

Gray tells me a new story everyday.

What does it mean? I can't stop thinking about it.

I go to sleep and I dream about it

that kid in black, he doesn't move.

I think it is Gray.

-

I decided to put Gray in storage today.

it was starting to consume my life

-

Oh God... I don't know what's happening to me.

I can't get out of bed anymore, can barely find the will to move.

Without Gray... it feels like there is no reason to live.

This... sadness. I haven't felt anything this strong, ever.

-

Claire, my friend, she has been admitted to hospital. Apparently she tried to drink bleach.

it seems like everyone is a bit down lately.

I hope she gets the help she needs.

-

I haven't heard from anyone in a month.

maybe that isn't true, I have messages left unread

but... I can't bare to open them.

Why can't I stop feeling sick and sad?

it is just getting worse.

-

Claire Rang me from hospital today.

Andrew has died.

She wont share any more details.

for some reason, the first thing I think of is Gray.

would there still be 5 children?

or would one have aptly vanished,

without a goodbye.

-

Claire is still in hospital. They say she has bi polar disorder.

She claims her life is over. She has lost her Job and her Husband has abandoned her. I really should visit...

-

Another Call today.

It was Jack.

he sounded upset.

he sounded drunk.

He told me something strange,

That he keeps dreaming about that artwork I showed him.

He says he wants to come look at it again, and that he misses his friends.

I told him I wasn't feeling myself and it would have to wait.

-

Jack broke into my house last night.

I woke up to him holding a knife over me.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

He demanded that I show him Gray.

I didn't have the strength to deny his request.

When I woke in the morning, he was still here.

He was staring at Gray, like I used to do.

I sat with him, and we talked about the strange piece.

The art now showed two boys playing on the swings

one girl inside, wearing a hospital gown.

The kid in black, he was outside, crying and praying at the foot of a fresh grave marker.

The marker read the name 'Andrew'

Jack explained to me that Andrew had been a suicide.

-

I hate it personally, not because the artwork is subpar, but because it reminds me of how I failed to save two friends lives.

I hate it because it scares me, as well as my friends.

but in a way, I feel it brings us closer to each other.

When Gray is hidden away to be on his own,

he takes with him our will to live.

I feel sorry for him, I don't think he means to do it.

He is always dressed in black, always ready for the next goodbye.

Always crying.

We made the mistake of stumbling upon Gray, and forgetting him is a luxury that his existence will not allow.

Claire gets out of hospital tomorrow.

Apparently putting Gray back on the wall,

caused all three of us to shake off the depression and suicidal thoughts.

-

Gray is in the spare room.

Only the three of us can look at it.

Once a week we will have drinks and talk about it, sometimes for hours.

Our own personal art viewing.

An obligation to each other that if ignored, will cost us our life.

-

I discovered a poem on the back of Gray today. I'm not sure if it is new, i'm not sure of anything with this dreadful canvas.

it reads

'do you remember how we used to play

when through the rain and gray

you still would come to stay?

There was no time before us

on that day you saw us

and you tried to assure us

the sun will return, and the Gray will go away'