Avi Escapades 05: Seeing Red
Color really is the best thing in the world; it's the reason I love to paint. Without it, the world would be even more boring than it already is. I know I'm a little spoiled because I come from a wealthy family, but colors are the only things that excite me anymore. So when the colors in my world began to dull and fade into darkness, I became more and more secluded within myself, like an animal backed into a corner.
As the weeks progressed I had almost entirely lost my vision. My personal attendants had to pick out every single one of my outfits for me so that they wouldn't clash horribly and embarrass my family. I could still see varying shades of gray, but even that was dimming rapidly. The doctors said I'd be completely blind in another month or two.
I had to resort to finding fun in other activities, but nothing held my interest for long. I would get frustrated and throw a tantrum, only to be quickly restrained by a staff member. I grew increasingly bitter. As my vision darkened, so did my mindset.
On one particular night I awoke and was unable to fall asleep again. It was raining. I could hear it, like icy fingers relentlessly tapping on my windows. I felt my way around my bedroom until I found my door. I wandered down the empty hallways, the sound of my bare feet barely overcoming the sound of the downpour. I picked a door at random and entered the room in search of something to pass the time. It was my father's hobby room; he collected old artifacts from famous battles. They always told me I was too young to go in this room, which only made me want to come here even more.
I came across one particular weapon and stopped. Color! I could see color on it! Darker in my shadowy vision than it would be normally, but I could see it! The weapon had subtle red accents on the blade. I nearly cried in delight. I can actually see it! Being the spoiled child that I was, I knew that I had to have it. I snuck it back into my room and hid it under my bed and out of sight. That night, I dreamed in color.
The next morning, the maid came to get me ready for my busy day. She chattered nonstop in her typical overly-polite voice that irritated me, but I didn't pay any attention to her. I couldn't get my mind off of the weapon I took. I sat on my bed as the maid helped me into my shoes. "Light blue, like an ocean under the morning sun." she told me. She always described the colors for me. But what use did I have for this knowledge anymore? However, I still had hope. I could still see red.
The maid left momentarily to fetch me a drink. I took this opportunity to snatch the poleaxe from under my bed. I stared at it for a long time, so transfixed on the crimson accents, I did not hear the maid return. When she tried to take it from me, I snapped. The next thing I knew, the world was more beautiful. Red was everywhere. I threw my head back and laughed in sheer delight. Red! I can see it! But it wasn't enough. I needed more.
So I traipsed through the corridor, surprising the other staff members from behind and showing them just how beautiful red could be. Red, red, red! I sang as I created more and more. The staff members always screamed with joy, too, and then fell over because they were overcome with happiness. They must be so proud of me for making this world prettier. My house grew quieter and quieter as everything became redder and redder. It wasn't until later, when my stomach grew empty, that I realized why. I don't know how I didn't notice earlier that I had killed them, but I did. Their faces flashed before me in shades of gray: Terror, shock, horror, confusion.
I was surprisingly at peace with this. As long as I had color, I was happy.
A month slipped by slowly. I was able to survive by creating more red and taking whatever the silent civilians had in their pantry for myself. Another month passed. It was during one of my 'painting' sessions that I realized that red, too, had faded from my vision. It was a dark, cold gray, like everything else. Just like that, my world had lost its light. Tears stinging in my eyes, I tried for days to create red again, but it was impossible. It had abandoned me for good. My cries echoing in the now-empty town, I came to a realization: What good to me is this world, without color? Or perhaps, rather... what good am I to this world, who only selfishly indulges her need to paint the world crimson with blood?
As the world darkened around me, I came to a decision. I took my paintbrush and, in a single stroke, spilled my own paint. And in that paint, I wrote my name, and my masterpiece was complete.
~*~
