Beat The Clock.

Jan 15 - Savanna

Dr. McShane could not keep his eyes away from the painting he held in his hands. It was an intricate acrylic picture of a lion at rest, taking shelter under the branches of desert trees, waiting from his next bit of prey to come along. But even as he mentally formed those words, he knew they weren't accurate enough. The bright, vivid color of fur on the lion's mane and the unique shade of brown that covers each individual branch was breathtaking. And the wondrous attention to detail blew him away. The realism of the painting brought to mind the wide-spanning desert sands in Africa. The more he gazed down upon the picture, the more he could feel the Savanna sun beating down upon his skin. He could ever swear he saw the lion look towards him.

"How old is the boy?"

The principal leaned forward from behind her stately desk and looked at him pointedly. "He's five."

Dr. McShane adjusted small screw of his wire-rimmed glass to hide his amazement. In all his years, he had never met a student at such a young age who expressed so much talent - especially since he had never left the small town of Bakersfield. The young boy's ability was extraordinary.

"Can I meet him?"

The principal softly chuckled, ringing her thumbs in concern. "Peter been awaiting your visit. Let me take you to him."

The click of the principal's high heel down the hall began to tango on the ends of McShane's nerves. He didn't know what to expect when he finally saw the boy and that made him uneasy for the first time since the start of his career.

They stepped into a near empty art room with the exception of a little boy with dark, tasseled hair paintings at a selected easel in a circle of many. The principal went over to the boy first while Dr. McShane watched from the doorway. Although he couldn't hear their low voice, McShane got the impression that the boy wasn't unhappy to be looked over by a doctor. Hopefully, that went in his favor.

Dr. McShane walked over to Peter's painting with a tiny feeling of dread building up in his chest. Peter rose at his arrival and held out his hand.
"Dr. McShane, it nice to finally me you." The smile on Peter's young face was infectious. McShane couldn't help but smile in turn. "I've been waiting for you for some time now."

"Oh," Dr. McShane replied. "How long have you been waiting, Peter?"

"Almost two years. It gave me time to finish your painting, doctor."

Slyly, Peter handed over another small painting to McShane to see if he approved of the subject.

The doctor nearly dropped the painting when he saw what it was - photograph-quality portrait of his face.