Mr Caleb Wellton was a well known painter who lived in Brooklyn Woods, located in South Park Province. He was famous for his masterpiece. His paintings told stories of heart and soul. The rich, noble and famous wanted to be painted by him.

Caleb never lacked wealth and fame. However, he wished he didn't lack love. He had lost his wife to a terrible winter fever five years ago. He still hadn't recovered from her death. Whenever he had any free time, he spent them on the canvas, painting a golden-haired woman with pearl-white skin, black silky-smooth hair, blue doe eyes and red cherry lips. His beloved wife never left his mind and he would do anything to see her again.

His wish came true.

One night, a heavy storm fell upon Southern Park Province. Thunder roared as the lightning flashed, giving off a frightening pure white glow. Unlike other houses' doors, windows and roofs that were either blown open or removed from their position, a dove-grey manor stood sturdily against the weather.

A folded blanket suddenly flew into its window and landed on the floor. Caleb stretched his hand forward and took the blanket. He looked at it for a while, wondering what was inside. His curiosity outweighed whatever fear he had. He unfolded the blanket with trembling hands, only to see that it was just a paintbrush. The brush was like nothing he had ever seen before. It glowed when he held it and he felt it carried some kind of aura.

Mr Caleb Wellton was in his workshop, painting a project assigned to him by the Duke. As he gave some finishing strokes to the painting, the brush broke in half. It was his favorite brush and he felt disheartened. As he wondered what to do, his eyes fell on the special brush on the table. Perhaps it was time to use it.

He picked up the brush and decided to use it on another painting, since he was not familiar with it. He started with painting an apple as a test. He had finished and had set the brush down when suddenly it glowed and fell out of the painting. Caleb was shocked by it. He gathered courage, tiptoed towards it and picked it up. He smelled it and took a bite. It tasted like an apple! He was excited and tried it on other objects. They did the same thing. As he laid on his bed, he wondered if he could try it on non-objects.

He worked very hard to make sure that his wife's features were right and looked as real as possible. As he finished, the portrait rustled as it glowed brightly, almost blinding Caleb. His wife, Amelia walked out and stood in front of him, smiling. He touched her face and drew her close for a hug. Joyful tears ran down his face as he thought things would be fine. But they weren't.

Amelia never stopped smiling. She neither blinked nor slept. She was as stiff as a statue and had no memories of her past life. There was no real love, warmth or care in her, leaving Caleb more alone and loveless than before. He even hated seeing her. As he locked himself in his room and sat on the bed, he realized that she was a painting without a soul, and souls held all memories. With a heavy heart, he knew what to do. He came out of his room and went to his workshop, where he found Amelia standing straight. He held the paint brush in front of him with his hands. Giving one sad and final look at his beloved wife, he snapped it in half. Soon after, Amelia and all objects he had created turned into dust and evaporated into thin air. The silence was deafening for a while. The paint brush had vanished in the same manner. Caleb sat on the floor, with a small smile on his face as he stared at his wife's portrait.

It was alright with him. He still loved her. The memories of her would never leave. And although he still would do anything to see her again, it was better that she remained this way. A masterpiece in his mind and heart.