He made light and shadow dance in canvas and oil, as though he had bound them with brushes and force of will. Seascapes, landscapes, sunrises, and sunsets were brought to shimmering life beneath his talented hand. He was popular; he was acclaimed; he was happy.
Then came the shaking, the clenching, the pain that ran through his bones like quicksilver. The diagnosis was clear: total loss of muscular control within a year. No more paintings.
Once more he sat out in the cold, wind in his face, and forced his brush to glide over the canvas.
His last sunset.
Word Count: 99
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and artycaptures.wordpress.com for providing the prompt photo!