Alizarin Crimson

by Erica Millard

  A clean breeze ruffled the curtains of my driftwood canopy.

  The blue of the sky burned into my eyes, settling in a deep sadness. It’d been so long since I’d felt anything but anger, it caught me off guard with how powerful it was. Back in Paris I’d emptied as much red as I could out of my body, so those emotions would be gone. But that just made it so I didn’t feel anything at all. Maybe it was better to feel sadness than to feel empty.

  I took off my necklace of paint and pain and hung it on the easel, so I could be reminded that there was no beauty without pain.

  I grabbed a fresh canvas and replaced the one on the easel. I spread every color of blue I had over my pallet: carnelian, aquamarine, cobalt, and viridian hue. I should have continued the paintings for my art school final project. Paintings of those I loved, in the style Van Gogh had used to paint himself. I had missed the last few weeks of art school, but they said if I turned in my final project, there was still a chance of a scholarship. But those paintings weren’t enough right now.

  I dragged my full-length mirror from its spot by the door and placed it close to my canvas.

  My eyes were hollow and empty, and I started there. My pink skin, red hair, and green eyes were all shades of blue on my canvas. The face, my face, was too cold and too broken but somehow truer than the one reflected in the mirror.

  Over and over in my head wound words written by Van Gogh, but none as much as the ones he wrote to his brother, It would not do for us to think I am completely sane. No, it would not do.

  I let the sadness take over as I painted. It crashed over me in great waves so big they could drown me. For the first time since it happened, I cried. I cried for Liam and for how much I missed him. I cried for the pain my father and I had caused my mom. I cried that I would never meet my father. I cried for that burning girl and her pain and my inability to figure out who she was. I cried for Dune and for the terrible life she’d created for herself. I cried that I killed her. I cried that I would never be the same. Maybe I could never be whole again, not my body, not my soul.

  I cried a long time, but the tears did not wash away the sadness like they usually did. Instead it deepened, like a hole in a dark cave that would swallow me.

  I painted the background behind me in swirling cobalt tones, deep and dark enough to cover all the light in the world.

  The sky outside settled into a deep, bewitching blue, as I finished the painting. I glanced at my hands and tiny lines of blue slid from my paintbrush into my skin. A blue haze the color of my walls tinged the air. Cobalt lines now crisscrossed along the skin of my arms.

  The blue was here to stay.

  Note from the Author

  Dear Reader, I hope you enjoyed reading about Aya, Liam, and Van Gogh as much as I enjoyed writing about them. If so, please consider reviewing it on your favorite online retailer to tell others about it! Leaving a review is the best way to help other readers find a new author.

  Sign up for my newsletter using the form on my website, and I will send you some Van Gogh and Paris graphic printables.

  Look out for the next books in the series, Cobalt Blue and Cadmium Yellow.

  Keep in touch!

  Erica

  Acknowledgments

  I have a multitude of people to thank for helping me put this book into the world.

  Thank you, Van Gogh, for inspiring so much of this book. I feel like I know a part of you, and I wish I had the chance to know more.

  My husband Mark, who is my best friend and the always-supportive love of my life. I’m so glad we found each other.

  My parents, for surrounding me with books, art, music, and love growing up. I have always loved that you love each other.

  My editor, Effie Rose, who has to endure random texts from me saying what a mess my books are. I am so thrilled I get to work with someone so brilliant.

  Kristin, who is my kindred spirit, sister, and best friend.

  Crystal, who fell into my life when I needed her the most and helped me find my place.

  All the lovely writers from my MFA program at Seton Hill University. A special thank-you to my mentors Maria V. Snider, who finally beat into my thick skull how dialogue should work, and Paul Goat Allen, who helped me put the meat on the bones that was my first draft. It was wonderful to work so closely with you both! Also a thank you to all of my SHU critique partners, and a few that weren’t critique partners, but I will mention just because I like you; Lynn Slaughter, China Despain, Sarah Appleyard, Nikki Smith, Tyler Peel, Chase Moore, Anna LeVoie, Sy Reagor, Kristin Dodds Rose, and Todd Moody. You are the most fabulous friends on the planet.

  A special thank you to all the beta readers who read Alizarin Crimson and the ones I wrote before it and liked them enough to tell me to keep going; Julia Robinson, Elizabeth Parson, Camille Parson, Melissa Wheeler, and of course my mom. Your encouragement means the world to me!

  My kids, who remind me to forever be silly.

  Thank you, reader, whoever you may be, for taking the time to read this book, and even the acknowledgments. Dreaming of you helped me write this book.

  Last but not least, my husband. Yes, I know I already mentioned him, but he is so wonderful he deserves to be acknowledged twice. Thank you for putting up with all of my hours spent writing, and for insisting I follow my dreams.

  I love you.

  About the Author

  Erica Parson Millard grew up surrounded by art and mayhem in the wild mountains of Idaho and has always been secretly obsessed with Van Gogh. She holds a BFA in photography from BYU-I and an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. When not writing, she can be found laughing at her own jokes, traveling around finding new places and experiences, biking, baking scones, hiking in the mountains, and reading. She currently lives in Denver Colorado with her husband and two children.

  Visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.ericamillard.com.