Hope To Escape Read Online Free
Author: Jack Parker
own.
And all around, in every direction – regrets! But Ess once heard that more painful were the regrets of what we didn't do in life, than of what we did do.
Ess waited, Ess stalled for time, Ess regretted. She berated and she chided herself for not doing or at least searching for something better in life. She was disappointed, but secure in her unimportant existence.
Her mind wandered and twisted on the subject. At any length, it shortened the cab ride, and distracted her from the smell. They arrived at La Donne on 5th, and the five friends divvied up the cost to the driver.
Ess's recent train of thought left her dejected, and now came a moment that would most likely make her feel worse. Someone out there deemed her worthy to be immortalized in art. She would now have to discover for herself what that meant.
* * *
The interior of La Donne on 5th was an expansive modern minimalist design, with exposed beams, pipes and air ducts, and blue white lighting. Near the entrance there were skylights, but the dreary overcast morning did nothing to add illumination. The walls were high, and painted a uniform shade of pale blue. The only furniture in the room were a few strategically placed white washed cement benches in odd shapes. For all Ess knew, the benches may have been part of the art displays, because there were a fair number of people in the gallery, and no one was sitting on them. Maybe Ess wasn't the only one who questioned if they were really for seating or were part of the artwork.
"The funny thing is," Manda reflected to her friends, "this simple décor probably took the designer months to accomplish." The comment effectively made her friends laugh.
"Okay," started Jill, "Let's see who can spot Essy's mystery man's artwork first."
Oh great, thought Ess, now they were making a game out of it. Better and better. Let's play with Essy's little life. She shuddered, less sure then ever if she wanted to see herself captured forever motionless in stone.
"Oh, oh, oh," cried Lisa, "statues in the rear." Sure enough, multiple stationary bodies were positioned on white pedestals in the back of the room. The four friends rushed towards them, but Ess made her way across the room slowly, her stomach turning in tighter knots with every step that drew her closer.
Her breathing became shallow; and she could feel her heart as it beat in her chest, through her temples, and in the palm of her hands. It was very similar to the feeling she got before, during and after any speeches she had ever been forced to give in high school – or college for that matter. She had never gotten used to it. But now she felt this nervousness from the notion that someone, unbeknownst to her, had modeled a whole collection of art after her.
She didn't look at the statues as she made her way to the display. Instead, she stared at her feet; aware of each step she took. It was silly that this situation made her so uneasy, but nevertheless, her nerves were on end.
Ess couldn't understand why she didn't feel the curious excitement that her friends felt. Who wouldn't be honored to be a subject of some artist's renderings? Who wouldn't be flattered? Oddly enough, Ess had to admit that she felt neither honored nor flattered. What she felt was anxiety. She wasn't used to being noticed, to being the center of attention; and now that she was, she didn't like it. Better to be the observer, than the observed in her opinion.
As she walked on, she knew that, eventually, she would have to look up. When she did, what met her eyes made her shiver. It was her. Or rather, they were her. There were several of them.
The first one was a white chalky plaster-like stone; and the lighting in the gallery made it glow almost incandescent. The figure looked rather angelic. All it lacked was a halo and feathery wings. It showed Ess as a child, and the title "Exquisite Esther" appeared on the sign plate at the statue's
And all around, in every direction – regrets! But Ess once heard that more painful were the regrets of what we didn't do in life, than of what we did do.
Ess waited, Ess stalled for time, Ess regretted. She berated and she chided herself for not doing or at least searching for something better in life. She was disappointed, but secure in her unimportant existence.
Her mind wandered and twisted on the subject. At any length, it shortened the cab ride, and distracted her from the smell. They arrived at La Donne on 5th, and the five friends divvied up the cost to the driver.
Ess's recent train of thought left her dejected, and now came a moment that would most likely make her feel worse. Someone out there deemed her worthy to be immortalized in art. She would now have to discover for herself what that meant.
* * *
The interior of La Donne on 5th was an expansive modern minimalist design, with exposed beams, pipes and air ducts, and blue white lighting. Near the entrance there were skylights, but the dreary overcast morning did nothing to add illumination. The walls were high, and painted a uniform shade of pale blue. The only furniture in the room were a few strategically placed white washed cement benches in odd shapes. For all Ess knew, the benches may have been part of the art displays, because there were a fair number of people in the gallery, and no one was sitting on them. Maybe Ess wasn't the only one who questioned if they were really for seating or were part of the artwork.
"The funny thing is," Manda reflected to her friends, "this simple décor probably took the designer months to accomplish." The comment effectively made her friends laugh.
"Okay," started Jill, "Let's see who can spot Essy's mystery man's artwork first."
Oh great, thought Ess, now they were making a game out of it. Better and better. Let's play with Essy's little life. She shuddered, less sure then ever if she wanted to see herself captured forever motionless in stone.
"Oh, oh, oh," cried Lisa, "statues in the rear." Sure enough, multiple stationary bodies were positioned on white pedestals in the back of the room. The four friends rushed towards them, but Ess made her way across the room slowly, her stomach turning in tighter knots with every step that drew her closer.
Her breathing became shallow; and she could feel her heart as it beat in her chest, through her temples, and in the palm of her hands. It was very similar to the feeling she got before, during and after any speeches she had ever been forced to give in high school – or college for that matter. She had never gotten used to it. But now she felt this nervousness from the notion that someone, unbeknownst to her, had modeled a whole collection of art after her.
She didn't look at the statues as she made her way to the display. Instead, she stared at her feet; aware of each step she took. It was silly that this situation made her so uneasy, but nevertheless, her nerves were on end.
Ess couldn't understand why she didn't feel the curious excitement that her friends felt. Who wouldn't be honored to be a subject of some artist's renderings? Who wouldn't be flattered? Oddly enough, Ess had to admit that she felt neither honored nor flattered. What she felt was anxiety. She wasn't used to being noticed, to being the center of attention; and now that she was, she didn't like it. Better to be the observer, than the observed in her opinion.
As she walked on, she knew that, eventually, she would have to look up. When she did, what met her eyes made her shiver. It was her. Or rather, they were her. There were several of them.
The first one was a white chalky plaster-like stone; and the lighting in the gallery made it glow almost incandescent. The figure looked rather angelic. All it lacked was a halo and feathery wings. It showed Ess as a child, and the title "Exquisite Esther" appeared on the sign plate at the statue's
Readers choose
Robert Crais
Dan Simmons
Patricia Gaffney
Mary Connealy
Jenni Wiltz
Elaine Raco Chase
Tim Symonds
Donna Malane
Matthew S. Cox