Ezra McKenna sat, consumed with thoughts of his own mediocrity, in an heirloom chair, fingering the strap that was wrapped around a dusty old satchel. Catching a glimpse of brown fur passing, he smiled. The young shop owner’s heart swelled with pride as he watched Beau the St. Bernard from the dusty window of Burning Desires Antique Shoppe. The elderly dog had a slow but steady pace as he trotted to his favorite fire hydrant and marked it in his own unique way. “That’s my good boy,” Ezra called out to him. He thought back to when, following his grandfather’s passing, he heard that Aunt Marlene was taking Beau to the animal shelter, not bothering to ask if anyone wanted to adopt him first. Without hesitation, Ezra sacrificed any potential afternoon sales and tackled the three-hour drive straight to the shelter. He never even gave it a second thought as he coughed up all the petty cash he had at the antique store to free the 12-year-old pooch from certain death.
At least the old artist’s bag was not the only inheritance he had received from Pop-pop. Ezra called Beau to his side and rubbed his graying snout. Opening the satchel, Ezra’s heart filled with joy as he recognized all the contents – a selection of oil paints, brushes, a small palette, and several canvases – all meticulously organized in the bag. He remembered how his grandfather had taught him to paint when he was just a boy, and since then, he had developed quite an impressive collection of artwork. All of these were memories that brought tears to his eyes.
But there were more than just memories in this bag; there were also tools to create new ones. As Ezra unzipped the pouches of the satchel further, he discovered several dust-covered sketchbooks full of illustrations and notes made by Pop-pop himself. He could almost hear his grandfather’s voice guiding him through each page as if it were yesterday. His fingertip traced the edges of an old photograph tucked away between the pages. The picture showed a carefree couple standing on a bridge, arms around each other, heads thrown back with laughter. It was Nana and Pop-pop. They must’ve been in their twenties. Startled, Ezra’s heart skipped a beat as he felt Beau’s warm breath on his arm. A thrill ran through him as Beau nuzzled against him and directed his hand to an unknown pocket located on the inside hem of the old artist’s bag. He cautiously placed his fingers inside the small opening, expecting to find nothing but cold air. But unexpectedly, his fingers grazed against something solid, and he quickly pulled out a fabric-wrapped parcel.
Ezra hastily unwrapped the package, finding inside an ornate old paintbrush. Energy seemed to emanate from it, and Ezra felt a warmth in his chest as he lightly ran his fingers over the richly faded bristles. The cherished grandson immediately recognized the intricate markings of a faun, a harpy, and other mythical creatures etched onto the ivory handle as being similar to those of his grandfather’s earlier works. It was almost like Pop-pop had left him this one last parting gift, a way to keep his legacy alive and continue creating art with the same passion that he had possessed.
Ezra could feel a sense of energy coursing through his body as he held the paintbrush in his hands, remembering all those wonderful days spent with Pop-pop in the studio when nothing else mattered but painting together. He could almost hear Pop-pop’s voice again whispering words of encouragement – “You can do it, Ezra! Just pick up a brush and let your imagination lead you”. Ezra hesitated at the threshold of the shop, gathering his courage along with the precious heirlooms he had been entrusted to carry. He grabbed a hand-carved wooden box from beneath the counter, its contents jingling in anticipation. Slipping the key into the lock, he quietly flipped the sign hanging on the door to “Out for Lunch” and stepped out into the back courtyard, Beau trotting along at his heels.
The courtyard was empty save for one lonely bench, its auburn planks carved with intricate patterns and painted a dull shade of red. The bright morning sun cast long shadows that left the bench in a lonely darkness, almost like the hard wooden seat was waiting to be occupied by an invisible presence. The shadows danced with Ezra as he closed the door behind him, only to disappear minutes later as the sun continued its slow ascent to its zenith.
Ezra took a deep breath and set up the wooden box on the bench, pulling out all its contents. He spread everything carefully across the pew, allowing his hands to linger over them in reverence before finally setting up his easel. His mind buzzed with excitement as he grabbed a canvas and placed it on the frame, for he knew that he was about to recreate one of Pop-pop’s most beloved works. With reverence and nostalgia, Ezra filled his brush with oil paint. He began drawing with swift strokes, taking care to capture every detail of the painting that had hung in his grandfather’s foyer all those years ago. He could almost hear Pop-pop’s voice echoing around him as he worked – “Beautiful, my boy, just beautiful” – and at that moment, Ezra felt tears of joy streaming down his face as he painted with all the love in his heart for a man who was no longer by his side.
As Ezra worked away diligently at his canvas, Beau nuzzled against his leg and laid down beside him to take a nap while he painted. Time seemed to stand still as Ezra poured himself into creating this work of art; soon enough, hours had gone by, the sun slipping behind the horizon, but it felt like only minutes had passed. Suddenly, Ezra felt a strange sensation of energy radiating from the painting. When he looked up in surprise, he was shocked to see that the faun and harpy had seemed to come to life, encouraging him to continue. Taking their kind words to heart, Ezra gathered his tools and returned to the antique shop, Beau following behind him.
Once set up inside the backroom of the shop, Ezra examined his work. The faun and the harpy almost seemed to dance across the canvas, and Beau’s eyes scanned the painting as they moved. Ezra had never painted anything like it before – it was alive with vibrant colors and intricate details that seemed to jump out at you, inviting you in to take a closer look. Every brushstroke was perfect; every line precise and purposeful. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Pop-pop’s masterpiece; he had brought it back from the beyond with love and dedication, connecting both worlds through art. Ezra smiled proudly as he saw how beautifully his work of art had turned out, feeling a renewed sense of joy in his heart as he imagined Pop-pop looking over him with pride.
Beau’s body tensed, and he leaped forward with such speed and grace that Ezra was taken aback. He shut his eyes tightly, fear gripping him as he thought of the destruction his dog might cause to his beloved canvas. When Ezra slowly opened his eyes again, he watched in wonder as Beau’s hind legs joined the rest of his body as he morphed into the painting. Ezra watched in awe as Beau slowly began to transform into a majestic creature, similar to the ones painted on the canvas, his fur turning from brown, white, and black to vibrant green and teal – his eyes glowing with an intense yellow hue. As Beau’s new form stepped to the front of the canvas, it seemed as if time had stopped. The former St. Bernard danced happily around the faun. Ezra sat there stunned for what felt like an eternity before finally breaking out of his trance. Standing up from his chair, he began to walk away. Sadness washed over him, and he felt alone. Ezra turned back towards the painting and quietly whispered, “I hope he finds his way back to you, Pop-pop.”
Just then, the old photo of Ezra’s grandparents in their youth drifted to the floor. As he looked at the image, he was taken aback by what he saw. The couple in the picture was the same beautiful faces of his grandfather and grandmother that stared back at him from his canvas, both faun and harpy intertwined as if they were dancing together. He remembered how Pop-pop would tell him stories about when they first met – how her hair was as wild and fierce as a harpy while his heart was gentle and warm like that of a faun. Ezra couldn’t help but smile at this moment of realization, for it seemed that Pop-pop had found a way to preserve their love forever through art.
Lost in thought, Ezra stepped back from the painting with tears streaming down his face. His heart felt full as he looked upon this work of art – it seemed almost magical, like something out of a dream. Looking down, he was elated to see that Beau had returned to his side. Beau looked up at Ezra, his tail wagging. Ezra reached down to scratch the old dog’s silvery muzzle. “Don’t worry, old friend, you will dance with them again someday.”
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