Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 191

This week's photo prompt is by French photographer, Megan Glc. She doesn't seem to have posted much recently, and her 500px page, where I believe this was originally posted, is gone. But she can be found on other social media platforms, but just not this pic, or this kind of art, which she seems to have moved away from. 

Sometimes when you can't find the end, it is finished. This turned dark. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Art

Dammit! Charlie couldn’t get it quite right; it just wouldn’t come out properly on the page. He dipped the nib of his ink pen into the water and watched it spread slowly through it. How could such beauty take place so naturally when it was so difficult to capture on paper?

He’d toiled for ages trying to get the perspective of the birds and the trees just right against the shadow of the land, until he reached a point he could no longer look at it. He pushed his chair back and rubbed his hands down his face.

He tasted something on his lips, and licked them again. Was that ink? Charlie looked at his hands and sure enough they were black with it, almost dripping.

He picked up the pen, but it didn’t appear to be from that. He even struggled to keep hold of it his hand had become so slippery. He grabbed some tissues and wiped at it, but more ink just kept coming. Then he saw something at his feet. A puddle of ink had formed there too. But how?

Charlie stood up, and noticed the window by his desk. Normally it looked out over fields, but it had gone opaque. Was it misty outside? He swiped his hand over the glass as though to clear it, but all it did was leave a smear of black ink behind. What was going on?

He went to the door, but it wouldn’t open. He thumped and shouted, but Charlie had lived alone for years, all it did was release his frustration – and fear.

He looked back at his desk and could see a shadow behind it that looked like a tree. He went over and looked at the picture he’d drawn. There was the jar of water, and the trees within it, and ink swirling through it, but ... was that a silhouette of a person just in front of the tree?

He heard a rushing sound from overhead and looked up to see a murmuration of Starlings in the sky above him. The ceiling to the room was gone, as were the walls. He could only see an opaque boundary running round him.

Then he felt something lapping at his feet. He looked down, there was water all around and it was rising. He was in his own picture.

He spun round. There was no furniture, only glass walls. But the jar was open, he would survive, he could swim up. But when he tried to lift his feet he couldn’t. He was stuck, fixed into the picture. His struggles only released more ink into the water in those pretty swirls. And eventually those slowed as his body became fixed, like the figure in the drawing.