Author's Note: Alright you guys, I am delivering some AMAZING news. I'm gonna be slowing down on the wrestling writing and getting into stuff I'm more interested is for the Ib video game, one of the hottest games out there right now. This is from the ending story of 'Forgotten Portrait', one of the saddest endings to the game.

This also takes place nearly 10 years after the game. Ib has developed her love for art since the day she was at the museum and throughout the years, it has only grown to the point where she is leaving college with art degree and hoping to teach at her local university.

I'm trying to keep Ib in a sort of same character, the quiet girl like from the game, but more mature.

Please review, I REALLY want to keep writing this since the first chapter has turned out so great. :)

"As you can tell by not only the concept, but by the rigorous effort placed into this picture, 'Casting Fisherman' is a piece that leaves not only built stress in the mind, but a sense of understanding when you see the joint frustration between the sea and the fisherman. Please remember, on page two hundred thirty nine there is a short excerpt I want you all to read and understand just a little bit more."
As Ib jotted down a few notes in her notebook, a smile formed at her poor handwriting. It wasn't graceful, in fact far from it, but she loved that it had a certain artistic appeal, at least in her eyes.

"Now remember, all of you," with a sigh the professor sat on his desk and turned off the projection screen, the picture of 'Casting Fisherman' fading out shortly afterward. "Graduation is quickly approaching, and that means you all will be going into the real world. I know that this course wasn't what you all expected, but I appreciate you sticking around for such a difficult curriculum; college is all about trying new things out right?" Some students nodded in agreement, many frowned in disappointment, and others smiled at the idea that they were finally moving into the real world. "I wanted to tell you all how PROUD I am of each and every one of you. But, I am still waiting on a couple final assignments. Alessandra, Ib, I am waiting on your 4000 word essays and a coverage of one art piece from a local gallery with a photograph collage dedicated to it. Any progress girls?"

Pushing her caramel hair back, Alessandra pulled her locks into a tight bun and opened her note book to glance over notes. "The collage portion is done, I am just getting a final look over the essay from a few peers and friends. You did give us QUITE an assignment sir." Students chuckled as she shut the book and pushed it into her black satchel: a warm smile was on her face when Alessandra looked around.

"Well, Ib? Progress?"

Ib rubbed her neck; she could feel strands of hair dancing over her hand as she tilted her head. "Progress is good so far. It will be done, I can promise that." Her voice tired and quiet;she was still as shy as she was since childhood. She wasn't outspoken like the rest of the girls, jumping to work with others or even interact. Ib was just...Ib.

Nodding, the professor rolled up his sleeve, eyeing his watch carefully. "Alright, I'm gonna dismiss you all early today. A chance to maybe wrap up your assignments girls. Have a nice weekend and I'll see you all Monday." Ib picked up her bag and jogged out of the classroom, down the stairs, before finally making her way out into the warm spring air.

It was nice out; birds chirping and the sky was slightly cloudy. Today was a nice day for what she thought would have been a much hotter day. Walking past groups of students, she passed the gates and reached into her bag to pull out a yellow candy. She popped the candy into her mouth before sitting down at the bus stop.

Playing with the wrapper, Ib rubbed it against her fingers, picking up the slight lemon scent off it. Tearing it on each side she twisted it about, somewhat mesmerized at the creases in the paper.

Ever since she was little and had gone to museums, she had grown to be fascinated with art and the details in the world. Whatever was out there, she loved to see and try to understand. Ever since her first trip to an art museum when she was nine, Ib grew to love art more and more throughout the years. Her favorite artist? If you could ask anyone that knew the girl, they'd tell you without ANY hesitation, Guertena. While she enjoyed his sculptures, she had been studying his paintings for quite a bit, and she loved certain paintings more than others. One being The Red Lady, a beautiful, surreal woman in red. Her favorite by far, though, was a painting entitled 'Forgotten Portrait.'

Ib had grown up seeing that portrait every time she went into the museum, upset when it had circulated to other museums until it returned home to the local gallery. Guertena had become so popular amongst the patrons, certain paintings had been bought in a benefit, including that one.

She would spent days staring at it, writing notes about it, even trying to sketch it out. Her mind revolved around the man in the portrait. He was beautiful to her, and she grew upset when people passed it by without a glance.

Some would call her obsessed, and Ib believed it.

Sitting on the bench Ib leaned back, her arm rested on the top of the bench. She undid the red ribbon in her hair and tied it around her bag strap, leaving it so it could match the red rose key chain already hanging there. No one had arrived at the bus station yet, and for quite a few minutes she enjoyed the silence. After all, there was a nice breeze, the temperature out was perfect, and she had just had an overall great day. Flipping her long locks back, Ib smiled as the bus slowly pulled around the corner, inching its way to her. Standing up she grabbed her bag, pulling some change out from a front pocket as the doors opened to let her on.

Leaping up onto the second step she dropped the change in before she moved to the middle of the bus, finding an open seat she sat down. Pulling her bag onto her lap she smiled, sinking down to rest her head on the window. Closing her eyes she continued to think about her final project. All her other classes were a lock in to pass, except Art History. As her major, it required so much more focus and work than what she had expected, but every time the going got tough she'd make her way to the museum, buckle down, and get the work done. The one thing she always did was go back to was "Sleeping Man." Something about it just mesmerized her whenever she looked at him. His hair was almost a silky silver, and his eyes were closed, seeming to sleep. He was decorated with blue roses. Ib wanted to speak to him, to ask for answers to questions like why did he look so hurt and what was wrong?

When her head smacked against the window lightly, she glanced up to see her apartment complex. Rubbing her fiery eyes she stood up, pulled her bag over her shoulder and jogged down the aisle. She sprung off the steps, lips curved into a smile as she continued jogging over to the apartment's steel set of steps, running up two flights to her door. She pulled out a rose keychain she unlocked the door to make her way in, relaxing at the dark room and the new quieter atmosphere. Turning on a lamp she fell down on her couch and pulled out her books and notebooks. She glanced over her notes again and moved them around before she pulled out her portfolio from underneath her small television. Ib opened a rather large folder to reveal a plentiful of photos and roses painted blue JUST for her project. Smiling at it she sat it on the couch next to her before she grabbed her laptop, turning it on to continue writing her essay. Looking over at the collage again she glanced over every photo, finding one that shocked her.

The Sleeping Man's eyes were open, and they were a beautiful blue.

Glancing back at her laptop it had reverted back to her home screen, a cute background of bunnies decorating the screen. Her attention was still drawn to the picture; she tried to shake it off and forced all of her mind onto the open document. Eight pages, three thousand, two hundred and fifty-eight words completed. Curling up she continued to write, her hands almost moving with minds of their own, her mind spilling out into a plethora of words not only describing her feelings, but to get her point across.

She was in love with the painting. It was the one she could remember since her first visit to the museum, and without it, she wouldn't be in love with art.

After hours of working on her essay, Ib had glanced at the clock, still in her clothes it was nearly midnight and her headache was pure proof of all the time gone into this project. Dragging her bag over from the floor she popped a candy into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue while she thought of a good last wrap up paragraph. Ib wanted something more on pure emotion than just facts and a simple answer. She was never that...plain.

Pushing with the rest of her energy, she finally had it completed at two in the morning, leaving her with her head tilted back, bleary eyes trying -but failing- to focus on the screen in front of her. Ib had never worked that hard before to complete something so difficult. While sleep was her first ringer, she continued to cheer herself on in the back of her mind, patting herself on the back while she did so.

With a large groan she saved the document and shut the computer down, sliding it onto the table. She tidied up the final pieces of her collage and slid it onto the table before falling back on the couch. With a large body pillow she had left from the morning, she rolled onto her side and fell into a deep sleep.

Light trickled through her blinds above the television; as Ib's head had turned just enough to meet with an unwelcomed visitor as her brow began to furrow, eyes squinted against the bright light. Mumbling to herself she sat up, feeling hair splayed over her face and back from the humidity taking over her apartment. Reaching for the air conditioner remote she hit the power button, a smile moving over her lips as the sound of air conditioning took over, cooling the flat in a matter of minutes.

Standing up she stretched, her smile wide. As she walking over to the bathroom she pulled her shirt off to get a shower in before breakfast. Turning the water on in the bathroom she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and laughed at her frizzy hair and oily face thanks to no air on her the entire night. While she was in the shower, all she really could think of was graduation. Receiving her art degree, seeing her parents faces: It was all a perfect dream that was about to come true for her in just a month.

Getting out she wrapped a towel around her hair and slipped into a pair of shorts and tank top before going to make breakfast. While she was in the midst of making something to eat she had grabbed her planner, skimming through dates and upcoming events. All of her friends and classmates were going to the beach this time of year, going out with boyfriends and girlfriends, partying, and doing whatever they felt like.
That kind of life just wasn't for Ib.

Once breakfast was made she had moved back over to the couch with her plate. Playing with the food around her plate she turned on her television, only to tune to the local news where she found herself in total shock.

"You heard it here first folks: the local art museum will, after almost nine years, be retiring their Guertena exhibit in a local gala to celebrate the wonderful art and patrons that had made it possible to keep the gallery open for so long. Following graduation at the neighborhood art academy, the exhibit's works shall be donated to the college for classes and the hope of founding the next generation's artists in the history field."

Ib dropped her plate to her lap as her eyes widened and shock took over her body in the short time it took her to hear the news.

Guertena's exhibit was going to her school? Where she was going to help out in the fall?

Tears brimming in her eyes she clapped, kicking her legs in the air of pure joy. Now she could be near her art and her passion for the rest of her life, it was really a dream come true for her. Picking up her plate she sat it on the table, a smile still on her face as she leaned back, closing her eyes at the idea that things were going to be even better.

If she could teach at the college...

...then it would complete perfection..

After note:This has been updated on August 12th thanks to Amy who is my editor. She was kind enough to assist me with editing when I didn't have a proper processor. Corrections will be made to chapter two as well!
Thank you for reading!
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