The Artist Challenge

Name: Lelan Gimnick
Location: USA
Title: “Walk With Me”
Price of Original: $450 (Prints coming soon through the Impossible Fantasy Retail Site.) Contact the artists at his links below.
Size: 18″x 24″
Medium: Acrylic and Drawing Ink
Artist web site:
http://impossible-fantasy-studio.artistwebsites.com/
http://www.impossible-fantasy-studio.fineartamerica.com/
http://www.impossiblefantasystudioandartspace.com/

From Lelan:
He approaches the bar as inconspicuously as possible. He knows it’s a waste of time to try not to stand out; it’s the middle of the day in a small town dive, and he is nowhere near familiar territory. Favoring the bartender with a silent nod, he pays for his longneck and finds a spot out of the way to rest and think. He spins the well-worn chair around so he can lean his aching back and head against the wall, lights a cigarette, sips his beer, ignores the scrutiny of the locals he can feel has already begun. He knows what they see. He’s dirty, he reeks; his eyes so haunted no one dares meet them. The whispers float to him on the stagnant air just as the jukebox mercifully begins playing a random selection. The locals are confused. They’ve noticed the stoop to his back and his measured, barely perceptible limp. They’ve seen the gray and white hairs overtaking his beard. And then there’s those eyes. The texture of his skin doesn’t match the rest of his appearance. It’s still smooth and taut and covered in tattoos that have yet to fade or distort. They decide here, there is danger. A stranger in their midst who has been undeniably aged beyond his years by a life they happily, though very quietly, speculate about between themselves. At least they’re not staring at him anymore. He feels the relief of the locals as one of their own walks into the bar. A solidly-constructed young man sculpted out of years of toil; hard and formidable as the land he makes his living from, but obviously still a young man. The stranger smiles to himself as he recognizes the immortal swagger and self-assurance he himself used to carry himself with. As the young man joins the people he’s grown up knowing at the bar, the stranger prepares himself for the confrontation he knows is coming. The champion has arrived, and the stranger will soon find out how unwelcome he is in this town. To his surprise, the younger man approaches with two bottles, one in each hand, one of which he holds out to the travel-wearied stranger. Accepting the offered beer, the newcomers eyes belie his apparent calm. He knows this could go bad and quick. “I’m not going to ask your name, Stranger. Something tells me you wouldn’t tell me and even if you did I probably wouldn’t remember it. So I’ll ask just one question and you can choose to answer it or not. Either way, the beer’s yours, but if you don’t answer the question you’ll be taking it and yourself out of this bar and on down the road.” The stranger sees the sense in this kid’s approach, so he invites the younger man to ask his question. “My friends over there can tell you’ve lived a hell of a life. They can also tell you appear to be too young for the damage it’s caused you. I believe in not judging a man til you walk a mile in his shoes. So my question is, what journey are you on?”

The stranger stands to take his leave and once again thanks the younger man for the beer. In keeping with his word, the local steps to the side to allow the stranger to pass by. As the stranger opens the door and prepares to step out once again into the heat, the young man calls out, “Hey! How old are you, anyway?” The stranger stops without looking back, looks up to the sun and smiles. He thinks of the path he’s been walking and the miles he’s got left ahead. He drops his head and replies, “Thirty-four”, then lets the door close silently behind him.