The blank canvas.
No sight had I witnessed before that was so tranquil, and so pearlescent; the world stretched out before me, every flower and every blade of grass, even the sky – a gleaming white. Bleak. Every set I took through the empty space left a footprint in the grass, leaving it verdant and vibrant. Colour pulsed from my fingertips to my toes with every piece of this empty painting I touched brought the life back into it. Colour flowed from my like water cascading down a mountain, into the sea of bleakness below. The small area I stood in was slowly regaining it’s energy, fuchsia flowers and emerald grass lit up with radiance.
What needed its colour back was the beautiful azure sky. It was a blank white, colourless and empty like the rest of the world. I wanted its azure beauty to illuminate the world once more. Perhaps it could restore colour to the void. I sat in my patch of moss green and ice blue staring out at the blank sky, a black sun watched over the world. Clouds slowly brushed across the scene like models on a set. The sound of a soft breeze did not follow them, their wispy cotton seemed hard and static.
No animals joined the scene, except for the insects I had brought into the land of colour. I moved my hands slowly, thinking about how I could recolour the sky, slowly lying on my back. I looked back down at my hand, of which I had just been laying on. My power did not only bring happiness, but also pain. Crimson blood leaked out of the small cut on my hand and dropped onto the grass, spreading through the blank canvas like a virus. Each drop of blood released a ruby red darkness, contaminating all that I had graced with my touch, and all that I had not. The bleak world was slowly becoming a hellish red that I had no chance of stopping. I plucked a single rose and held it to my chest, as I watched the sky turn scarlet, the black sun watched disapprovingly.
It was no longer a blank canvas.
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