The Masterpiece

Amy and Beth were two sisters living in a London apartment at a time when influenza was deadly. Both were old spinsters and patron of the arts, often spending their days at art galleries and exhibition. The winter that year was especially harsh and Amy caught the flu. Confined as she was to her bed, she fell into a depression and refused all food and nourishment.

Jack, the janitor was a friendly old geezer who often bumped into the sisters and spoke at length about his lofty plans to create a masterpiece someday.

Beth, distraught by her sister's appalling condition confided daily in Jack whose soft grunts expressed his disapproval.

The sister's apartment came with a solitary window which opened out to the brick walls of another building. On the wall, a creeping ivy clung in defiance against the winter chill.

"Look at the ivy outside, Beth. See how stubbornly it clung to life. Yet, they too shall perish. And when the last leaf falls, so shall I."

And Beth, so hearing her sister's words hurried to the window to have the drapes drawn. This became the daily ritual as Amy's illness worsen. Each morning, she asked to be shown the ivy. She counted the number of leaves remaining and repeated her prophetic words.

As the winter progressed, only three leaves remained one morning when Amy looked out.

"Look at the leaves, Beth. See how the edges are dying. By morning all three leaves will fall and so shall I."

"What utter rubbish," cried Beth as she thrust another spoonful of chicken soup towards Amy who once again waved it away.

This went on for a few days. Each morning, a perplexed Amy watched with unbelieving eyes.  The three dying leaves clung to the cold frosty wall. On the third morning, Amy called for Beth.

"Prepare me some chicken soup, Beth. I shall fight this cold and recover. If those three leaves survive this winter, so shall I."

The story ended well. Amy drank her soup and slowly recovered from her illness. By and by, they started going out for walks. And they started missing Jack.

Bumping into the landlord one day, Amy asked. "What's happened to old Jack? We haven't seen him for days."

"What? Old Jack? The damned fool. Went out sloshing in knee-high snow every night to paint his masterpiece. Caught the cold and died he did just last week."

The sisters rushed into their apartment to look out the window. And there it was, Jack's masterpiece, the three miserable leaves captured forever in its dying grace.

Today, I find myself looking out that same window and thinking the same prophetic thoughts. The difference is that there is no masterpiece on my wall.