The Last Empty Space

Yesterday I went with my Good Neighbor to get my painting at the Mayor’s show at the Emerald Art Association. I was shocked to see ‘Empty Space’ had gotten two awards. It was hard to look at the two five dollar bills that were laid out on the table before me. I smiled at the irony of seeing two Honest Abes side by side. There was nothing honest about the success of Christine Rosamond Benton but for the question she asked me in her home, when this image was taken. Did I give my beloved sister – an honest answer?

This is the crux of our story, and my book, Capturing Beauty. Christine had filed bankruptcy before she died. Her debtors were there at Rocky Point. But, they only pretended to be attending her First Sober Birthday Party. We are given coins to commemorate this event. I believe Christine told Vicki Presco to invite me. But, I was the last person my surviving siblings, and the outsiders, wanted there. I had seven years of sobriety. Christine and I were brother and sister in AA. They…… huddled behind Christine’s back. They sprung an evil surprise on my sister. If I was there, Christine would still be alive.

On our coins it says; “Unto they own self be true.”

That this show closed the day after I discovered the truth of how my sister died, is beyond coincidence. In the honest account of our amazing story, I will give Christine her first sober birthday coin. We will rise from the ashes – like Phoenix Birds!

John Presco

Capturing Beauty

Jon Presco

The Last Temptation of the Green Witch

I couldn’t bring myself to look at her again. I was frozen, enthralled as I watched the fingers of an old hag pull on the zipper of the leather money pouch. Peering in, I took in the sickly green color that sucked the light out of the room. This dull green was amplified by the dead currency of the vile paper next to it. The more money, the richer my dread.

I have long disliked money. Since it killed my sister, I hate money! The old hag took out too five dollar bills and handed them to me. I was afraid to take them from her. I feared the hidden prick of that wretched nail. One tiny prick, and you belong to her. I went for my camera. I thought I heard her hiss as she lay the images of Abe Lincoln on the table next to the green ribbons I was awarded.

I am the – last one! There were four of us. God put three gifted artists in the world to accompany my gift. The empty space I felt and captured as I stood against the wall, was overpowering. There is so much to our story. I did not want to sign the contract I made. Did I make a deal with the devil, or, with death? I took the ribbons and the money, and put them in my wallet. I found the courage to look at my benefactor and let out a sigh when I did not behold the beautiful face of my muse, Rena Easton. It was her beauty that started it all. She upturned the hour glass. The countdown had begun. I now understand she read that I had come to blame her after all these years. This is why she had Sherriff Dan give me a ring and file stalking charges.

The real culprit was the Rose of the World Money bag that was made of the skin of a green witch. Every morning when Rosamond awoke, she reached for her money bag. She had to see how much money her images of beautiful women had brought to her, while she slept. We had been hungry as children. We were borderline homeless, and terribly insecure.

Thirty-five years ago I called Christine and asked her for a loan of $50 bucks. I was hungry. She hissed this at me;

“You’ll never see a dime from my art!”

As I picked up the two Abes I wondered if I had broke the curse? You could say I made $10 bucks off the image of the famous Rosamond, who kept me out of the picture. In the end, is this all she is worth? I put a price tag next to ‘Empty Space’ for $1,000 bucks, but, there were no takers. At her funeral I cried on my brother’s shoulder. He said this;

“Don’t be upset. She’s not dead!”

After the gallery funeral ho-down, Stacey Pierrot got down on one knee, grasped my mother’s hands, and, looking up into her eyes, said……….

“Don’t let the dream die!”

Since 1994 I have pondered this evil request. How could Rosemary keep the dream alive? In hindsight Pierrot would have been better off to have made that plea – to me! For, I am poised to kill the dream – and destroy her!

What Stacey got from Rosemary, was ‘The Green Money Bag’ and, a prick from that wretched nail.

If this was a movie, it would open with me taking my painting home on the bus, and when I hang it on my wall, the empty spaces are filled in, and we are transported back in time.

To be continued