by Kyle Stover
Stellar, but unrecognized, her style always called for more acclaim than it received. She was saddened by it; she yearned for fame, the spotlight. Pushing her trunk lid closed, she exhaled heavily. The macabre was not allowed, not by her parents or anyone, but there was beauty in it. Time, attention to detail, stretching boundaries, they were all cornerstones of art. Her subjects never saw it that way; it was a fight up to the moment their life was pushed aside to attain brilliance.
Kyle Stover is an amateur at almost everything.