The hospital was always silent at this time of night, especially this ward. the only noise that could be heard was the faint beeping of heart monitors and the mild hum of the breathing apparatus. An old man lay on his death bed in the dimly lit room. His only comfort was the young man stretched out oddly in the chair beside him. The last of his family left.
The door to the room silently opened and the nurse softly walked in to check his vitals and give him a little more morphine to ease his passing, and with an odd smile she left as quietly as she entered.
Hours seemed to pass. The old man went into a deep coughing fit that woke the young man from his light nap (in probably the most uncomfortable chair in the world)
"Easy Uncle," the man said as he pulled the blankets over the dying man but as he did a withered hand grabbed him.
"Come closer, I-I-I never told you-u-u did I..." the old man said though his wheezing.
"Breathe easy Henry, if you have anything to say, it looks like now is the time...Here, take some water." After the weak sips and the coughing fit Uncle Henry pushed the water away
"Your the last of us ss-s-s-on, the last one I can pass this on to. If you go into my b-b-b-athroom, there is a loose floorboard." The coughing and wheezing continued. "In there is a great gift, fff-from the hand of 'cough' Zeus himself...Herc' stole it I was told..." His eyes were fixed on the young man, pleading for him to listen.
"Morphine does amazing things" he said under his breath. "I'll look for it uncle, just rest" Gabe said as he adjusted the old mans blankets.
"Y-yy-y-you don't UUU-UNderstand, You must Gaurrrd it." The withered hand grabbed his chest as the coughing got worse, the heart monitor started beeping erratically.
"Easy uncle,"no amount of comfort could change what was happening, and with that he passed.
It wasn't until weeks later, after the funeral was over that Gabe was cleaning out his uncle's house and getting it ready for the realtor's to asses it that he stepped on a creaky floor board in the bathroom and remembered what his uncle was saying, and though he thought it was all rot, the drugs speaking, curiosity got the better of him.
The floorboard was loose, it came up easily, and covered in dust was a small artist brush with a little note wrapped around it, held tight with and elastic band. It was heavier than it should have been and had an old look to it but the bristles felt brand new. The note read as follows.
For the fingers of man were always creative, but if those creations lived the devils playground would follow.
Never paint, Never draw, NEVER USE.