{"id":2760,"date":"2025-03-01T13:56:23","date_gmt":"2025-03-01T20:56:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2760"},"modified":"2025-03-01T13:56:23","modified_gmt":"2025-03-01T20:56:23","slug":"the-beard-of-avon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2025\/03\/01\/the-beard-of-avon\/","title":{"rendered":"The Beard of Avon"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Center your story around an artist whose creations have enchanted qualities.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin Smoot was known by his neighbors as the hippie who paints and has an overgrown plot full of weeds. The people of Bidford-on-Avon knew him as an eccentric that used a loophole in environmental laws to have his front and rear gardens declared wild habitat. The art scene in Warwickshire knew him as a painter of weirdness, best classified as abstract surrealism. The fact that there was an undeniable magic to his art, despite his being untrained as either an artist or a wizard, made them slightly more interesting to collectors than they would have been otherwise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were a select few who knew him by another name, one which they would only share with their most trusted friends or allies. It was based on that name that the couple who sought him out were walking up his garden path just before sunrise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before they could knock, Justin opened the door of his cottage and waved them in. He stuck his head out the door and looked for witnesses. Satisfied they\u2019d been unseen, he latched and locked the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He motioned toward the shabby furniture in the sitting room, grabbed the burning joint that had been balanced on the edge of the mantle, and took a deep drag. \u201cI\u2019ve just put the tea on,\u201d he said, the smoke curling around his full, wild beard flecked with spots of paint and unkempt, dishwater blond hair. \u201cMake yourselves comfortable.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The couple sat. A dwarf woman, her dun muscles straining against the sleeves of an otherwise loose sundress, and her partner, an albino elf woman in a similar style sundress that flowed like water around her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin padded to the kitchen in his bare feet and prepared the tea. He returned to the sitting room with a battered but ornate, silver tea trolley laden with tea and biscuits and unmatched, chipped cups and saucers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry it\u2019s nothing fancy, just what I can get down at the shops.\u201d He poured tea for all of them, offered milk and sugar, then offered a fresh joint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dwarf woman took her tea with a splash of milk. She peered at him over the rim of the cup with her deep black eyes. \u201cHow does this work, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin laughed. \u201cBuggered if I know!\u201d He lit another joint and took a drag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She stood and set the cup down, her arms flexing as she got into a fighting stance. The elf woman grabbed her arm with a delicate, pale hand. The dwarf seemed to melt under her touch and returned to her seated position.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI think what she means is, what do we need to do? And, if it\u2019s not too indelicate, what will it cost us?\u201d the elf asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin blew out the smoke slowly, letting it curl around his head. \u201cI don\u2019t know how this works, or why it works, I just know that it does.\u201d He pointed at the easel in the corner of the room with a painting turned around to face the wall. \u201cThat\u2019s yours \u2014 or at least, it will be by end of day. You know my name, but what\u2019s yours?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSorry. I\u2019m Rena, and this is Ellith,\u201d the elf said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin stood up ramrod straight. \u201cRena, Ellith, welcome to my humble home. I\u2019m Justin, but you probably already knew that.\u201d When he could no longer hold the pretense, he relaxed, flopping into an armchair with the joint and a handful of Tesco biscuits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs there anything we need to do?\u201d Rena asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust, like, be<\/em>.\u201d He let his head fall back, his eyes focused on nothing. \u201cI don\u2019t know how I know, but when I do, I know<\/em>. I painted your piece last week and knew you\u2019d be here today, before sunrise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou said in the interview in the Globe that your paintings come to you.\u201d Ellith leaned forward, interest clear in her expression. \u201cIs that what you meant?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin laughed. \u201cNo, that was just bollocks for the nosy journo. My regular stuff is just whatever nonsense I think might sell. Something that might match someone\u2019s sofa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena sipped her tea. \u201cYou said you knew when we\u2019d be here. What else do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin raised his head back to look at the women. \u201cJust what I see in front of me. You\u2019re both smitten with each other, but something\u2019s got you scared.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena let out a sigh and leaned her head on Ellith\u2019s shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I had a quid for every time I heard that, I wouldn\u2019t be living in gran\u2019s old place.\u201d Justin offered the joint to Rena. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you take a hit, love, and spill?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena took a drag and handed the joint to Ellith before erupting into a coughing fit. \u201cIt\u2019s \u2014 our families.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellith took a drag and offered the joint back to Justin who waved it off. The smoke distorted her voice. \u201cHer da works with my da, and that\u2019s how we met. Both of our families are\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOld fashioned,\u201d Rena interrupted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was going to say they\u2019re a bunch of horse\u2019s arses, but that works, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait, your families are anti-gay in this day and age?\u201d Justin asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, not that,\u201d Rena said. \u201cIt\u2019s, erm, worse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow\u2019s that?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena started, \u201cOur fathers are\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re racist gobshites,\u201d Ellith said, \u201cmy da worse than hers, even.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUnless they\u2019re talking business, they keep falling back to the War of Three Kingdoms.\u201d Rena took a more successful drag of the joint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome people will use anything, even a three-hundred-plus year-old war to justify their nonsense.\u201d Justin let out a loud sigh. \u201cSorry that you both are going through that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill the painting just hide our relationship, or will it\u2026,\u201d Ellith trailed off, some thought left unuttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill it help your families get over their racism? I don\u2019t know. Might do, but I suspect that will take ages, and a lot of help from the two of you.\u201d Justin jumped to his feet. \u201cIt\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He turned the painting around. Like his other works, it was a collection of strange, undefined colours and shapes that seemed to morph and change the longer one looked. His works left some with vertigo, others with a feeling of being watched, and still others with a general sense of unease. After looking at a Smoot for any length of time, one found the world around them somehow off-center. His abstract works made the rest of the world feel surreal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena spoke first. \u201cIt feels \u2014 quiet, almost cozy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAye,\u201d Ellith said. \u201cI expected to feel put off, but I\u2019m not. It\u2019s not like your stuff in the galleries.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, it is, at least to everyone else but you two.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd hanging this up in our home will keep our secret from our families?\u201d Ellith asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFrom everyone that might be, cause or have a problem with your relationship. Including loose-lipped friends who mean well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena opened her purse. \u201cHow much\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPut that away,\u201d Justin said. \u201cLike I said, it\u2019s yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou aren\u2019t going to charge for it?\u201d Ellith stood. \u201cMaybe I should force the money on you. You need it. This place is like a squat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Justin shrugged. \u201cIf you pay me for, then it wasn\u2019t yours to begin with, and it won\u2019t work. Don\u2019t ask me how I know, it\u2019s not a story I want to repeat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rena cleared her throat. \u201cEhem. Would you happen to have any of your other kind of paintings around? Surely, we can work out a fair price for one of those, so we don\u2019t leave you empty handed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He walked them down the footpath through the wildflowers in full bloom in his back garden to the shed he used as a studio. Everywhere they looked, canvases in a myriad of sizes were covered with the uneasy work of Justin Smoot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ellith crouched near a small canvas on the floor, propped against the wall. It was a mostly white canvas with a single dribble of paint that seemed to move and sway. \u201cWhat colour is<\/em> that?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh, that\u2019s indignity. It can<\/em> be a nasty colour, but I find it most humorous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They settled on paying four-hundred pounds for the painting with the single dribble of indignity and left with their goods. Justin watched them walk to their car and drive off. He padded back into the studio in the back garden. He had another piece to do. He knew someone else had heard of the Beard of Avon and would visit him in a few days.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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