Paint Smudges, Splatters and Spills

(*)Author's Notes: This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

This short tale is an entry for the Literotica Halloween 2026 Contest. Please take a moment to leave a rating for this and for the other fine stories being submitted for this contest. Thank you.

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When they first received the diagnosis, none of them realized what it would truly entail. Their father, a strong, silent, private man simply stated they would adjust, they would survive. Her mother, a devout Catholic threw herself into their faith.

As the disease of Friedreich's ataxia progressed, slowly but steadily robbing Kayla of her motor functions, their father became more withdrawn. Kayla could see the bitter disappointment in his handsome face each time she needed assistance. It was worse whenever she would fall; his face would go hard and he would only grunt as he helped her up, helped her right her walker once more.

He could not articulate to her, to Judith, Judy, the younger daughter, the sister that had to sit and watch the family deteriorate over time that he truly was not disappointed in Kayla. He was not angry with Kayla, did not blame her for becoming afflicted. He blamed himself. He blamed himself because Friedreich's ataxia is a hereditary disease; somehow he had given this debilitating disease to his precious, beautiful daughter. And he blamed himself because he could do nothing to help her.

Their mother spent much of her time sobbing. The faith, the belief that if she just prayed right, said the right prayers, devoted enough of herself, her time and energy to St. Thomas Aquinas Catholic Church, then they would be rewarded and Kayla would be cured. But the disease was not cured; it simply continued to progress, robbing their strong, fiercely independent little girl until she became a shell of her former self.

The mother went first. No one was sure if the overdose was intentional or accidental. The powerful sedative had been prescribed during a period of intense anguish, extreme doubt; she questioned whether God even cared about her suffering, her daughter's suffering. Then she felt true remorse, even horror that she had dared to doubt God or God's intentions.

The father was next to go; his weight had ballooned after the death of the mother. As he told friends and family, it was just easier to pick up a couple of Brick's Pizzeria Meatstravaganza pizzas than try to cook. It was easier to pick up three or four Big Macs than put together a healthy meal.

"Be better if I was just dead," Kayla said one morning as Judith and she sat at the table, eating the warm Malt O' Meal cereal flavored with maple syrup.

"You ever say that again I will slap the shit out of you," Judith said, stuffing another mouthful of the porridge into her scowling mouth.

"What? It, it's true," Kayla said, voice shaky as she attempted to get the lumpy porridge into her mouth rather than on her clean nightshirt.

"Better for you, maybe. But what about me? Huh? Then I would be all alone," Judith reminded her older sister. "I mean, with Momma and Daddy gone?"

"And would be able to go out on dates; you had to break up with that Bobby guy because..." Kayla said.

"I broke up with that Bobby guy because he was an asshole," Judith snapped, finishing her bowl.

He had made the truly offensive joke to his friends when he was sure Judith was out of earshot... 'What do you do after you eat a vegetable? Put her back in her wheelchair!'

When his two friends failed to laugh, one of them even looking stricken, Bobby turned and saw Judith standing behind him. Her face was beet red, her beautiful brown eyes filled with tears of rage.

"My sister. Is not a vegetable. She is the strongest, bravest person I've ever met," Judith hissed, her hand slashing out and slapping Bobby across his smirking face.

"But still, you loved him," Kayla insisted as Judith gently cleaned her face than grabbed the big spoon with EZ-Grip handle.

"No. I loved who I thought he was. Until he showed me the real him," Judith corrected, feeding Kayla a spoonful of the warm, sweet breakfast. "We're having ham sandwiches for lunch; that okay?"

"Okay," Kayla agreed.

Judith kissed her sister on the forehead, grabbed their bowls and cleaned up as Kayla sat and watched through the breakfast nook's window as two squirrels chased one another around the back yard. Kayla laughed at their antics and Judith turned to peer through the window.

"You two better get busy," Judith warned the bushy tailed rodents. "Winter's coming; you need to get your acorns all gathered up."

"They've got plenty; they ate all the bird food," Kayla said.

"You don't know how cold it's going get this winter," Judith said. "Want one of your Audio Books?"

"I, I want to draw," Kayla suddenly blurted out, still watching the two squirrels.

"Draw?" Judith asked, truly surprised.

Her sister's neuromuscular system had deteriorated to the point that Kayla could hardly feed herself. The act of putting pen to paper, or pencil to paper was beyond Kayla's abilities.

"No! NO, I, I want to paint!" Kayla said, growing animated. "Remember? Remember when we was kids? Aunt Karla gave me that Paint-By-Numbers? It was a horse?"

"Except no one could hardly tell it was supposed be a horse by the time you finished with it," Judith thought, already looking up the address for a local schools supply store. "Oh! Okay; Clayton's. Over on Sycamore Street."

After helping Kayla but on a warm blouse and some stirrup pants, brushing her thick mane of brunette hair, Judith and Kayla left the house. The van was equipped with a lift; Kayla was delighted that she could operate the lift on her own and Judith allowed her sister to exercise this degree of independence as she waited to drive them to the store.

They had money; the life insurance from their mother and father assured that, with careful planning, neither girl would ever have to work. Judith was very diligent in managing their money, very rarely giving in to frivolous purchases. The van had been quite expensive; the wheelchair lift had cost a very pretty penny. Thankfully, their Aunt Karla, their mother's eccentric sister had provided the money for the van and the equipment and never asked for any money in return.

Still, Judith was perturbed when Kayla insisted on purchasing a twenty inch by twenty four inch canvas stretched over a sturdy wooden frame. She insisted on oil paints, even as Judith pointed out that water colors would be easier to clean from brush, from canvas, from clothing, hands and face.

"It's going be me; its boing be forever," Kayla insisted and with a shrug, Judith acquiesced.

"Oh! Oh, look; yep, it, it's that time of year again," Judith said, seeing all of the Halloween decorations near the solitary cash register.

"And before you know it, it'll be time put all of that away and hurry up and get out all the Christmas stuff," the elderly woman smiled. "That'll be all for you today?"

"Yes," Judith said, keeping a watchful eye on Kayla as the young woman pushed her wheelchair too close to a snow globe display.

"Look," Kayla said quietly, pointing to a snow globe with a ballerina figurine posing on one foot.

"That, that really is pretty," Judith agreed, thinking it would make a perfect Christmas gift for her sister. "All right; anything else while we're out and about?"

"Why people say that?" Kayla asked. "Out and about?"

"I don't know," Judith agreed, holding the door open for Kayla's wheelchair.

They made a stop at the local grocery store and Judith let Kayla talk her into buying a large bag of Halloween candies. She wasn't fooled; ninety percent of the candy would be gone before the first bell of the night echoed through their house. Quietly, she reminded Kayla that their doctor had warned Kayla that she was pre-Diabetic; really needed to watch her sugar intake, her carbohydrates intake.

"I'm not going eat all of them," Kayla lied and Judith smirked.

"What? I'm not!" Kayla defended.

"No, no, not all of them," Judith agreed.

"Just ninety nine point nine percent; that's all," Judith said, swiping the credit card when the self-checkout register indicated the total and asked for method of payment.

At home, Judith helped Kayla get everything organized in the small office; their father's former 'man-cave.' Wedging herself firmly under the table and locking her wheels, Kayla began her great art project. Judith watched for a long moment as Kayla clumsily squeezed pink oil paint from a tube onto the palette first, then selected a large brush.

"Call if you need anything," Judith said.

"Uh huh," Kayla agreed, pretty face twisted in intense concentration.

By lunch time, very little progress had been made. Judith said nothing as she cleaned Kayla's hands of pink pigment so that Kayla could eat her lunch. By supper time, Kayla once more had more paint on herself than on the canvas.

"I it, it's coming together," Kayla assured Judith as they ate the fried chicken. "I love fried chicken."

"I know," Judith agreed. "That's why I..."

"But what is this?" Kayla teased, holding her crispy drumstick.

"You, you, you take that back!" Judith squealed in indignation.

"It, it's really, it's coming together; it'll be perfect," Kayla quietly assured Judith when Judith came into the room to tell Kayla it was time to go to bed.

Judith saw nothing but blobs of pink, some blobs of browns, some blobs of green. But she saw nothing that appeared as if it were coming together.

"It'll be a masterpiece," Judith said, kissing Kayla on her forehead. "But come on; time to get you ready for bed."

The next day, Judith arose, said a silent prayer for strength, compassion and servitude. Then she dressed for another autumn day. She felt an icy dread when Kayla was not in her bed; Kayla's wheelchair was not next to the bed.

"Oh Sweet, Merciful Jesus, Sweet Jesus, Sweet Jesus," Judith begged, hurrying down the hall.

Kayla was in the small office, hunched over the large canvas, slowly, methodically slashing paint onto the canvas. She looked up, contented smile on her face as Judith let out a sob of relief.

"Scram, scrambled eggs okay?" Judith managed to ask.

"Grits?" Kayla begged.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll have some nasty old grits with it," Judith agreed.

In the kitchen, Judith allowed a few tears of relief to slide down her face. Then she cleaned herself up and prepared the eggs, grits and buttered toast.

Once again, she had to clean Kayla's hands of the thick, cloying oils. She'd known the oil paints would be a great deal of trouble, but Kayla had wanted the oil, not the watercolors.

The breakfast was cold by the time they sat to eat it; Kayla said nothing. Judith smiled; Kayla was humming happily to herself as she fed herself.

"After you finish this, maybe we could get you some watercolors," Judith suggested as he picked up her empty plate.

"Won't be another one," Kayla disagreed, relinquishing her EZ-Grip spoon to Judith's grasp.

Halloween day was bitterly cold and the weatherman was predicting temperatures near freezing by nightfall. Judith wrapped Kayla in a grubby old sweatshirt that had belonged to their father, carefully rolling up the sleeves. Both she and Kayla laughed; no matter how cold it might be, their father refused to turn the furnace on until November 1st. Once, their mother had to threaten to call the police; it was abuse. Grumbling and muttering, he'd relented and turned the furnace on. The very next day, October thirtieth, the temperature was sixty degrees and their father had crowed in triumph.

"I remember," Kayla giggled, beautiful eyes shiny with happiness over the memory.

"I love you," Judith said, kissing Kayla on her forehead, then leaving the room so that Kayla could paint.

"Love you too," Kayla mumbled, already bent over to clumsily splatter more paint onto the messy canvas.

After dinner, Kayla impatiently waited for Judith to wipe the spaghetti sauce from her face and hands. Judith reminded Kayla, she'd been the one to beg for spaghetti and meatballs.

"I know," Kayla said. "So, that's what we're having tomorrow?"

"You, you are just wrong for that," Judith said, cleaning her sister's laughing face.

"Come on; come sit outside with me," Judith begged as she dumped what was left of the Halloween candy into the large bowl their mother had used for years and years, every Halloween.

"I, Judith, I'm almost finished," Kayla whined, not looking up from the smudges and splatters of colors.

"Okay," Judith agreed, shaking her head at the disaster that covered the canvas.

Judith bundled up against the frigid air and sat on the porch swing, large bowl of candy next to her. Just as she had predicted, Kayla had helped herself to quite a bit of the candy. But because of her almost manic obsession with the painting, Kayla had not eaten all of the candies. Judith had enough to drop two pieces apiece into each child's bag. Some neighbors did ask about Kayla and Judith told them Kayla was inside; apparently the night was too cold for her sister.

Finally, the hordes of demons and ghosts and video game and cartoon heroes and villains came to an end. Judith smiled; Kayla would be quite upset that nearly all of the candy was gone.

"And it'll all be fifty percent off tomorrow," Judith said as she lugged the heavy bowl into the house.

She almost dropped the bowl; the wheelchair sat empty in front of the desk. Judith put the bowl down on the coffee table and ran into the office, expecting to see Kayla sprawled out on the floor. But Kayla was not on the floor.

And on the desk sat the completed canvas. A smiling Kayla stood in a perfect ballerina's pose, one foot on the grassy field, the other leg thrust out as she twirled effortlessly. The field was alive with flowers of every imaginable color and, stepping out of the background, walking through the field of flowers as they approached the beautiful, happy dancer were Momma and Daddy, smiling, holding hands.

"Dance Kayla, dance," Judith sobbed out, gazing at the wonderful, wondrous creation.

The End

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***Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment.

I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

Likewise, I also thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my words, those that take the time to 'Favorite' my works.

This is an entry for the Literotica Halloween 2026 Story Contest. Please take a moment to vote for this and the other fine stories being submitted for this year's contest. Thank you.

This is an anomaly; there are no characters from any other JimBob44 story making an appearance in this tale.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day. Happy Halloween; it is time for the dance.