Xaine

by Ken Walker

Title

Xaine

Artist

Ken Walker

Medium

Digital Art - Digital Painting

Description

A recent addition to the Urban/Industrial collection as well as Abstract and the Written Word. The artist enjoys telling a story both visually and in prose. Please check out the short story below:

Xaine couldn’t make out the name: Kyle, maybe, Ken? Well, whoever he or she was, Xaine figured that the owner of said name painted in the middle of a circular metal plate at eye level quite obviously wanted to say, “I was Here!”. Isn’t that why people used to, what was the word – “tag” –walls, very much like this one, so that they somehow felt remembered? Xaine was very glad that this wall didn’t have the shadows of long forgotten people posed for posterity, like so many he had already passed. He couldn’t stop thinking that these dark blotches had names, lives, and had no idea that everything they knew would be vaporized in an instant. Well, I guess you could say they were the lucky bastards. The ones who survived the aftermath of war suffered beyond measure. This he was always taught was true.

That was hundreds of years ago, and by now not many new for sure what had happened that day to cause all of existence to flip up-side-down. Some say a great sickness had ravaged the world and people lost hope, and loss of hope always leads to madness if unchecked. There will always be men who rise up as saviors, only to be the harbinger of doom. Unfortunately, that hadn’t changed, which is why he was out her in the old city, looking for the last remnants of resistance against the new order. Xaine stood there, looking at that unrecognizable scribble. Who were they? Maybe they were just like him, wanting a better life and reaching out the only way they knew how. See me. Hear me before it’s too late!
He froze. A thought gripped his very being: What if this whole damn thing is on repeat? He bent over, heaving until his gut was empty of his daily ration, a small benevolence from the pseudo-government now in power. Will I be here when all is said and done? And who will remember me? Xaine slowly stood up to face his friend once again, the unknown name on a battered wall. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a small can of spray-paint and with the reverence of an ancient scribe, wrote across the wall a message that now seemed to be his own. Remember me. I am still here. Silence.

It had been years since the Great War, and Sydney was excited to go to Freedom Park, to visit the memorial of a young freedom fighter that rallied against the evil of his day. She had come her many times to see the remnant of this man she had never met. This was his wall, now preserved that all generations to come might stop and think about the choices made lest they be repeated. As she approached, she wondered what he might have been feeling that day. Maybe he was just like her, wanting a better life and reaching out the only way he knew how. See me. Hear me before it’s too late! Now, close enough to touch, she let her heart reach out to grab hold of the most important name she had ever known, boldly sprayed across the surface, the name of her father: . Xaine. And she would remember him.

Uploaded

September 20th, 2021

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Viewed 163 Times  -  Last Visitor from New York, NY on 04/17/2024 at 3:04 AM

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