“Nothing about this seems right,” I said out loud. I quickly glanced around to see if anyone had heard me. The Community Art Competition was next week and I had finally gotten enough courage to enter a few of my pieces. The competition was probably the most important one of my fledgling, not-quite-started career and I didn’t really want anyone to realize how much I talked to myself.
My life would be forever altered if I managed to win this competition so I didn’t need anyone else getting into my headspace. I knew I had fairly good chance just based on the fact my art was a little quirky – a little off – and no one else produced art that looked much like mine.
I had gotten some interest from other art schools and galleries mainly because no other artist produced anything like I did. I wanted to prove myself to my parents who thought being an artist was not a suitable profession because it didn’t always lead to stability. But I was starting to wonder if my current piece was going to get me where I needed to go.
I stared intently at my painting and wondered what was off. I tried tilting my head each way and finally realized what it was. There was a thin, but extra layer and another signature on one side. My mother. I knew it was her and I knew it was sabotage when I saw it. I just needed to know exactly why.