Thursday, June 2, 2011

FICTION: The Noegrus By Rafael Coira

“Is that your mother?” the old woman whispered so as not to disturb the Noegrus.

“No,” the young woman said. “It’s my daughter.”

The old woman smiled knowingly.

In front of them the Noegrus stood back from the canvas, observing his subject. The girl sat motionless on the stool. Her eyes were done but her nose was still a blur and her mouth was just a cloud of white. And then, in a sudden storm of inspiration, the Noegrus waived his brush furiously over the canvas letting the paint fly from the bristles. As the girl in the painting was filled out so was the one in real life. And a moment later she was done.

The onlookers clapped as the Noegrus retreated from the room. The Noegrus’ apprentice carried a silver mirror to the newly painted girl on the stool and she looked eagerly at her new face. Her mouth opened wide.

“I can’t believe it’s me. I look young again.”

“Now you could be sisters,” the old woman said.

And so the Noegrus reversed the spell and created another masterpiece.

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