The Scream Edvard Munch

The Scream Edvard Munch was a picture prompt from a Dean Writers Circle ‘Creativity and Cake’ evening, stolen as usual for my FaceBook prompts.

Daisy eyed the painting critically.
‘That poor person,’ she said.
Andrew nodded. ‘Is it a he or a she do you think?’
‘Hmm.’ Daisy tipped her head to the side as if what would be a gender revealing gesture. ‘Hard to tell.’

‘Profound.’ Andrew glanced at her, eyebrows raised.
Daisy basked in the praise. It wasn’t easy to come by. She studied the picture more closely, gathering more profundity.
‘The river, flowing into the sea … that must mean something.’ An idea hit. ‘Life,’ she murmured. ‘Our lives, flowing finally into the great ocean of death, or eternity.’
‘Yes! And the sunset emphasise that!’ Andrew grasped her arm. ‘Pending darkness, the eternal sea. I love it.’ He squeezed a little tighter and Daisy winced. ‘What about the figures on the bridge?’
Daisy scrutinised the figures. ‘Remind me of policemen – you know, rules, conformity, authority, forever telling people how to run their lives …’
‘When all they want is to be free to express themselves …’
‘And,’ Daisy exclaimed, ‘the screaming person has cracked. They can’t stand it any more …’
Andrew’s voice rose to match Daisy’s. ‘They know they have to jump, off that bridge, into the flow of their real life, their true desires, it they are to be fulfilled before death…’
They faced each other, amazed at their insights, then swung their heads back to the painting.
‘But is it too late?’ Daisy’s eyes grew moist. ‘Have they left it too late? Look how short the distance is to the sea, how the sun is setting …’
‘No, no.’ Andrew was determined to find hope. ‘That’s just the perspective of the painting.’
‘Yes.’ Daisy was wistful.
They stared a the screaming figure for another minute until Andrew sighed.
‘God, I’d love a cuppa tea. You think the museum caf is still open?’

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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here.