Brush Stroke

Brush Stroke - Intro (rough)

PROLOGUE

Another day had passed. Like a clock thats tick echoed through hollow walls and lulled people to sleep. It was painful.
As I sat at upon my bed that seemed to creak with each individual movement I took, I thought. And it was a deep thought. Not one of those moments where you pondered on what music to listen to, though one of those deep thinking ponders like I wonder what to have for tea tonight? Don't lie. I know you think of food every spare moment you possibly can, because so do I, but back to the point. My grandfather had passed away last week. My family had always been a closely knitted bunch of people. So when my grandad became ill, I had no idea how to react. Because how would you? If your inspiration was told they would only have a short time left to live, how would you react?
I never knew what I would do without my hero. Especially after I had been diagnosed with depression just three years ago at the age of fifteen, I felt like this man was the only one who could help me through those tough times, I just honestly did not know that I would turn this bad after he was gone.
Every day I would visit my room and delve through my grandfathers photo's and old birthday cards and letters. Within those last couple of weeks of being with him, I couldn't help but feel that he had something that he needed to tell me. He never did though. All I know is that it must have been something to do with the legend of our family name, the Coxsons. The legend of our family had gone through generations, and I was the next one to have to do something about it. Even though I didn't know, what, exactly I had to do, because my grandfather was the one that was suppose to tell me, and he didn't have the chance too. So now, it was up to me.