By Jon Moray
This story first appeared online for Collaborative in June 2025 and was inspired by a painting done long ago by my late dad, James H. Moray, and is about a man who discovers a portal that releases him from his lack of mobility in a wheelchair he has occupied since childhood.
Jenny was on vacation walking along the beach boardwalk. Breezy winds enveloped her stroll as she ambled slowly with waves crashing on her left one hundred feet away. One week of serenity ocean side was the elixir she needed to rid the burn out of her profession as a marketing director for a clothing company.
The boardwalk was scattered with beachgoers, rich with pleasantries and passing greetings. Jenny had just smiled a ‘good morning’ at a young couple when she caught off in the distance a man in a generic styled wheelchair, tending to a 18×24 canvas with his oils supported by an easel. Her interest was peaked when the closer she got, the more she marveled at his artistry in rendering a seascape of the ocean beyond. An unfamiliar hunter green tree was front and center towering over multi-colored and multi-shaped objects that she interpreted to be shells. The mustard sand was unfinished.
“Good morning sir, that’s a really nice seascape you are painting,” she commented.
“Good morning. I am painting my oasis. My dream realm is where I can walk, run, swim, and climb trees. That’s where I want to be.”
“Looks like paradise to me,” Jenny said, with a half-smile focused on the towering vegetation in the painting. “My name is Jenny. I am on vacation from Boston.”
“My name is Edgar. I am from Cleveland. My son moved me here seven years ago so I can enjoy my golden years in the sun.” Edgar noticed her attention on his wheelchair, which reflected the sun in a blinding glisten off the exposed chrome frame.
Edgar dabbed a smudge of soft yellow paint on his brush mixed with bright orange as he continued in a low whistle.
“Well, I’ll let you continue your painting. It was really nice to meet you, Edgar.”
“Nice making your acquaintance, Jenny.”
“I will try to stop by again. What time do you usually set up?”
“Mid morning, about eight thirty. It’s past the morning mist but not too hot either. I then pack up by eleven.”
“I will definitely stop by again.”
He smiled at her, and they bid their adieus.
Jenny ambled back along the boardwalk towards the beach house, pondering Edgar’s surreal, abstract seascape. Her night was spent on a bench swing, sipping a wine cooler on the screened in porch.
The next morning was a carbon copy of the last as she went out to enjoy the tropical easy breeze and a trek on the boardwalk. As she climbed the wood planked steps up, Jenny spotted Edgar out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he was just about all set to wet the brush.
“Hello again, Edgar,” she greeted him as she approached.
“Good morning, Jenny.”
“Your masterpiece is coming along nicely. I love the ocean lined, tall palms wrapping the contours of the sands.”
“Thanks. It’s all part of my oasis. My getaway that would free me from this seated prison.”
“You make it seem like you are really going to go there.”
Edgar reached for his denim bag at the right side of the chair and pulled out two small glass jars that once occupied jelly. “Jenny can you do me a big favor and fill these two jars up, one with sand and the other with ocean water?”
“I guess,” she said as her face wrinkled with his odd request.
“I want to incorporate those ingredients into my painting to add texture and give it a more tropical feel.”
“Oh, uh…okay.”
Jenny nodded and headed for the steps down. Minutes later, she was back with his request in hand.
“How far along do you think you’ll get today towards finishing?”
“I would like to finish up the ocean and sands and then maybe start on the sky. I can’t wait to finish and enjoy my oasis.”
“Do you think a painting can do that for you? I mean, isn’t it better to experience the beach in reality?”
“I have this wild fantasy of finishing this painting and then becoming a part of it, with this brush being the vessel that will take me there,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows in part disbelief and part admiration for his glass half-full attitude.
“With the sands and the salt water, the closer I paint to the actual beach, the better chance I have of achieving my oasis.”
Jenny removed sunscreen from her belly pouch to put some on her face when Edgar interrupted, “Do you mind squirting a tad of your sunscreen on my palate next to the white paint? I think I can use it to help create the foam of the waves.” Jenny obliged without question, applying a small amount that encroached on the white.
Jenny decided to leave him to his work. “Have a nice day, Edgar. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Edgar nodded.
The next morning, Jenny awoke to a bright sun invading her bedroom window. She readied herself with a shower, breakfast, suntan lotion and then exited the beach house to the boardwalk. She walked quickly and with purpose until got a partial glimpse of Edgar wiping his brow with the tip of the brush and then applying it to the center of the canvas when the painting began to distort in a colorful spin-art like swirl. Edgar’s hand penetrated the painting as the vortex began pulling him through. Seconds later, Jenny saw him completely vanish into the painting as the distortion came to a stop and the original artwork restored.
Jenny, light-headed from the supernatural visual, struggled over toward the painting and peered at the finished product to see a stickman figure with arms up at the center of the tree.
“You did it, Edgar,” she mouthed, with her hands wiping away blissful tears.
Moray Writes 