Wednesday Writing & #TDWC — I’ll Paint It Black

Posted on by Teagan Riordain Geneviene

Wednesday, May 8, 2024

Photo by Sharukh Bamboat

Welcome, everyone. I prefer to post only twice a week, but I make an exception for Dan Antion‘s 4th Annual Thursday Doors Writing Challenge (TDWC).  (Click the blue link for more information about the challenge and how to showcase your stories.)  You see, I’ve had a “Who’s at the Door?” post waiting in the wings for the month of May, but I also wanted to participate in the TDWC today.  You will meet my mystery guest on Thursday.

The photo above, by Sharukh Bamboat took my imagination to a story that is quite different from the kind of things I usually write. While it might seem a little morose, as could befit that time-worn red door… Well, just keep reading.

Also, I thought it would be fun to ask Sharukh to name the two best friends in this story.  Meet Nina and Asha.

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I Want to Paint It Black

Computer Generated Image by Teagan via Playground

Nina watched a line of black cars drive slowly down the lane.

“And they’re all painted black.  I suppose that’s suitable in a cemetery,” she murmured, thinking back to the day exactly one year before when she saw a similar line of cars.  “With flowers and my love, both never to come back.  You left a year ago today,” Nina murmured to the gravestone.

Then she saw her old friend striding across the well-manicured grass.  She greeted Asha with a hug.

Asha smiled broadly, trying not to show her surprise at the change in Nina, who had always so vibrant before. 

“I thought I would find you here.  I’ve been worried about you.  You’ve always been so filled with color.  Now it’s as if there are no colors anymore.  They’ve all turned black,” Asha began in a concerned voice.  “Ever since Lewis passed last year, you’ve drawn in on yourself.”

“Yeah… I know.  I didn’t mean to shut you out.  Lewis and I had just bought that massive fixer upper…  All that peeling red paint, and that broad front door.  Did I tell you that it sags so much that the entire opening is going to have to be redone?” Nina paused and sighed.  “I’m so overwhelmed with everything that I need to do about that house that I can’t function.  Then I can’t do the regular things that need to be done, and I feel even more overwhelmed.”

Nina tried to smile, but she had to look away from her old friend.  She knew that she would burst into tears if she saw the sympathetic expression in those soulful brown eyes.  They had been best friends for ages.  She actually had met Lewis through Asha whose cousin had been visiting.  Her cousin Harihar was an accomplished sitar player. That summer, teenagers and twenty-somethings from all over New York flocked to Asha’s parents’ house out in the country, to learn from Harihar.  One of them was Lewis.

“I never foresaw this for you.  I thought you two would go on forever,” Asha murmured sadly, but then smiled.  “I still remember those two sitting in my parents’ barn with their sitars.  Lewis was sitting cross-legged, his golden hair radiant, blissfully plucking that gigantic sitar he had gotten,” she reminisced, causing Nina to chuckle warmly.

“Asha, how could I ever forget?  That was the first time I saw Lewis.  Ha! There he was, all dressed in white because he thought that’s what Hari would do,” Nina said.  “I have so many happy memories of visiting you at your parents’ place when we were in high school.  Ah, and the summer clothes we wore… shorts, sandals, floaty maxi dresses, halter tops.”

“I thought Lewis was going to levitate into the air when he saw you in that backless paisley printed sundress!  You won’t be seeing me in a halter top these days!” Asha remarked wryly and they both laughed.  “So, what are you going to do with that peeling red monstrosity of a house?” Asha asked, giving Nina the chance to open up about her troubles, now that she had taken her friend’s mind to a relaxing moment.

“I want to paint it black!  Until my darkness goes…” Nina grumbled in a sardonic tone, but then she took a breath and straightened her shoulders.  “I look inside myself and see my heart is black. What I mean is that the house has become an extension of my mourning.  It isn’t as though it was Lewis’s great dream to renovate the place.  As part of ‘letting go’ I’ve decided to sell that monstrosity.  I listed it with a real estate agent yesterday.”

Asha nodded and smiled at the firm tone of resolve in her friend’s voice.

“Selling that place is a good idea.  Even if you can afford to fix it up on your own, the upkeep would be exhausting,” Asha agreed, and Nina nodded.

“That’s true.  And I realize that Lewis would have never meant to burden me with something like that,” Nina murmured as she reached for her phone which was buzzing.  “It’s a message from the agent.  There’s already an offer on the house,” she added in a stunned voice.

A brightly painted car passed down the narrow lane.  The window was down, and they could just barely hear its radio.  To the surprise of the two friends, the rhythmic sounds of sitar music emanated from the radio, fading as the vehicle drove away.  Nina smiled, again remembering the awkwardly enormous sitar that belonged to Lewis.

“I think your darkness is already going,” Asha encouraged.  “Come on.  Let’s go find some colors.”

“Are you thinking of retail therapy?” Nina asked, knowing her friend well.  “Okay then.  I could use some summer clothes.”

“And maybe some sandals,” Asha remarked, shifting her feet in a pair of obviously uncomfortable pumps.  “But no halter tops!”

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The end

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Now, wasn’t there something familiar in all that?

The above video is “Rolling Stones – Paint It Black LIVE (1966).”  Here are the lyrics.  I worked several of them into the story.

Paint It Black

By Mick Jagger and Keith Richards

I see a red door

And I want it painted black

No colors anymore

I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by

Dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head

Until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars

And they're all painted black

With flowers and my love

Both never to come back

I've seen people turn their heads

And quickly look away

Like a newborn baby

It just happens everyday

I look inside myself

And see my heart is black

I see my red door

I must have it painted black

Maybe then, I'll fade away

And not have to face the facts

It's not easy facing up

When your whole world is black

No more will my green sea

Go turn a deeper blue

I could not foresee this thing

Happening to you

If I look hard enough

Into the setting sun

My love will laugh with me

Before the morning comes

I see a red door

And I want it painted black

No colors anymore

I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by

Dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head

Until my darkness goes

I wanna see it painted

Painted black

Black as night

Black as coal

I wanna see the sun

Blotted out from the sky

I wanna see it painted, painted, painted

Painted black, yeah

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Thanks again to Sharukh for this wonderful door photo.  Check out his contribution to the writing challenge here. Friendly comments are welcome. Thanks for opening this door.

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Naturally, the obligatory shameless self-promotion must be included.

Speak Chuckaboo:
Slang of the Victorian and Steam Eras

Speak Chuckaboo, Slang of the Victorian and Steam Eras, by Teagan Riordain Geneviene

Universal Purchase Links

Kindle:  relinks.me/B0B9W38LDJ

Paperback:  relinks.me/B0B9T8MP1K

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Thursday Doors is a weekly feature allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. It’s hosted by Dan Antion.  Feel free to join in on the fun by creating your own Thursday Doors post each week and then sharing your link in the comments below, anytime between 12:01 am Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time).

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No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author, or used with permission, or from free sources.

Copyright © 2024 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved.

72 thoughts on “Wednesday Writing & #TDWC — I’ll Paint It Black”

  4. This is a very good narrative description of how grief takes hold, and realistic in the way we need to express grief in outward signs — like color. I didn’t know the song, so it was good you included the lyrics and I could see that you’d done a creative adaptation. That was a dimension I’d have otherwise missed. Very clever!

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    1. This is great feedback, Maureen — thank you. I didn’t know all the lyrics either, so I knew I needed to include it. All I remembered of the song was “I saw a red door and I want to paint it black” and the sitar music. I have fun using songs as a springboard to a tell story. I did a few like that for Dan’s challenge last year. Actually, I have another coming up on Wednesday. Thanks for reading and commenting. Hugs.

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  8. Excellent that this ended on a positive note.

    Another fab write Teagan, thank you!

    Although I took a couple of days off, I am reading 1 a day.

    I just read Sharukh’s entry.

    I’ve now read 5 out of 11.

    Pretty great!

    Mine is almost done, but then I need to make a post. So, I figure I’ll be in well before the deadline.

    Hugs!

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    1. Dear Resa, I wasn’t expecting to see you under the circumstances. (If I had known, I would have written a different kind of story. I only just now saw your post.)
      Oh, there are 11 entries now? I have catching up to do. Haha, as usual. I’m looking forward to yours. I’m sure Dan would tell you not to worry, that it isn’t a regular deadline.
      Take good care of you. Hugs winging back to you.

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      1. No worries Teagan!
        I tried to get on with it last night, but it only lasted a half hour.
        I’m back in the saddle for a half hour/hour, then it’s music and drawing.
        Tomorrow a bit longer.
        I think you’ll really like my entry. It’s outta the box!
        BIG HUGS to you!!!! You have been so kind.

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  11. Teagan – a beautifully written story where love and grief mingle together even as life moves on. I had goosebumps at the end and I said out loud “When one door closes there are more doors to open…”

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    1. Haha — and they don’t need to be painted black. You are so kind, Rebecca — thank you for this comment.
      I feel a little guilty about the story. I wrote it so fast last evening, so it hasn’t been polished. I appreciate you reading and commenting. See you “at the door” tomorrow! Hugs on the wing.

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    1. Thanks so much, Denise. It’s great to see you. I see so many sad stories and poems, that I really meant this to be about moving forward. As you said, healing. Wishing you an easy coast down the other side of this midweek hump. Hugs.

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  13. Your usual wonderful story and a great fit with both the photo and the Stones. I saw them in concert many moons ago (pun) and the place rocked. Then they turned up in the hotel I went to in Philly later that week for a meeting. They took over the whole top floor and arrived in a white limo- or three.

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  14. Story and song a great fit here, Teagan. Haven’t seen the Stones be that “dressed up” in a long time…different clothes for different times. I do think black is always in fashion…paint color approved!

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    1. Thanks, Bruce. I enjoy writing stories that are sort of about songs, or as Dave said below, a “springboard.” Fashions can be a great writing device, as a way of anchoring a story in a particular era. Using color (even black) helps show moods or personalities. Wishing you an easy coast down the other side of this midweek hump. Hugs.

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    1. Thanks so much, Deborah. I wrote it so fast yesterday that I really should go back and polish it up. Haha — you can tell the halter top remark came from me. I wondered if anyone would react to that. I appreciate you reading and commenting. Hugs.

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    1. Thank you kindly, Kamal. Sharukh’s photo is marvelous. If you scroll down to his comment, there is more information about that door in real life. When I wrote this yesterday evening, I didn’t know the history of the door (or to what building it belonged). So my story bloomed from the idea of just any old house with a door in that kind of condition. (Haha — not to mention my own feelings of overwhelm! 😀 ) Have a beautiful rest of the week. Hugs.

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    1. Thanks so much about the story, Tim.
      It’s funny what stands out to people in songs or books. The sitar was the main thing I remembered about that song. Maybe because (back then, as a kid) I wasn’t familiar with that kind of instrument. LOL, I tried to get a CGI of a guy holding one. It was everything I asked for EXCEPT that it kept giving me a guitar, no matter what prompt words I used. I was laughing. Hugs.

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      1. It seems that once AI misses the target, like a guitar instead of a sitar, there’s no getting guitar out of it’s system. Sending you what I got from asking for a man play sitar.

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        1. Ha! The poor AI guy really has a problem with that hand, huh? I think you must be right about the misunderstood word getting into the system. Mine made it more confused because I specified a blond American man. But once “sitar” was in there, even when I removed any reference to the man, I still didn’t get anything like a sitar. One image looked like a lute, but… I meant to try a different CGI app, but I wrote this story on impulse (and way to fast) last evening, so I didn’t have time. I ended up taking a screen shot from the Stones video of Brian Jones and playing with effects.

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          1. And the strings are not under his weird fingers. I noticed early on once you get a misunderstood reference point, getting it out of the queues can be impossible. When it comes to images AI does not save much time unless you are looking for weird stuff.

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  20. I love this version of the story for that song, Teagan. I like how friends can help friends through tough times just be being there and sharing memories. I’m also glad I finally got Sharukh’s doors into the gallery. WordPress and gMail were conspiring against me on that one.

    Over the hump f this week, I hope you have a nice easy slide into the weekend.

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    1. Sigh… it must be those dashed sunspots, Dan. LOL. But I can relate. It really is frustrating.
      Thanks for your feedback here. I only wrote it quickly last evening. (I know it needs polishing, so thanks for your comment.) Yes, I meant the story to be more about moving forward, than about loss or sadness. The beginning of my Wednesday didn’t bode well, but the day is going okay despite that. LOL, fingers crossed and knocking on wood. An easy rest of the week to you too. Hugs.

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  22. I forgot that Rolling Stones song had a red door in it. Neat that you remembered, and that you wove lyrics from the song into your story. I think your last “door” story had Sherlock Holmes references. You’re creative to use these things as springboards, and come up with new, fresh stories!

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    1. I appreciate that feedback, Dave. “Springboard” is the perfect word. Most of my very short stories are basically writing exercises. I like to write stories that are sort of about songs. Last year I used “You’re So Vain” “Come to My Window,” “Born on the Bayou,” and a Buffet song “It’s My Job.” None of them are the stories the songs actually tell, but as you said, a springboard. Wishing you an easy coast down the other side of this midweek hump. Hugs.

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    1. Hi Fraggle. Yes, it has a sad setting. I wrote it so fast last evening that I guess my mood got in the way. (I’ve been so determined to write happy stories for this challenge, because so many of the responses are bleak.) Anyway, I tried to make it more about moving forward than the circumstances of the beginning. Thanks very much for reading and commenting. Hugs.

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  25. A nice way to blend your story with the worn-out door. This door belongs to Mumbai Samachar (Sum-aa-charr means news) which is Asia’s oldest continuously published newspaper since 1822. They recently celebrated their 200th year. On Sundays, many youngsters come here to do photoshoots in front of the door for their Instagram reels and profiles. Thank you for using this image and if you or any of your readers would like to know how they have sustained for two centuries, go to my website and type Thursday Doors in the search bar and one of the articles will be on this particular one.

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    1. Excellent! Thanks for the additional information. I just referred Kamal to your comment. That’s amazing background. I will read that article. LOL, if I had realized all that it would have triggered quite a different story. (As Dave commented, songs and photos are just a “springboard” for my writing.) The initial inspiration only gets the story growing. I wrote this one so fast last evening, I just went with the impulse. Thanks for reading and commenting — and thanks again for the photo and the character names. Hugs.

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    1. Hi, Pete. It’s good to see you. Wow, this is a terrific clip. No, I didn’t realize War covered this song. I mostly remember Spill the Wine and Cisco Kid. Oh-oh… you may have just inspired another Doors challenge short story…
      Thanks for reading and commenting. Hugs.

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    1. Indeed it is, Robbie. That’s part of why I wanted this story to be about moving forward, rather than the circumstances of Nina’s loss. I appreciate your feedback here. Wishing you an easy coast down the other side of this midweek hump. Hugs.

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