Under Lock & Key

~1~

I knew that if I mixed the flax and sea gum it would be a vibrant blue only to be filtered dull in the darkness. The painting on the wall was only half-finished, covering up an old work of mine that I have long relinquished. It peeked solemnly from behind the new wet paint, almost with the begging look of mercy. I scrubbed my fingers on my skirt that was no longer the beige, through the beatings of crusty and flaking paint. Brushing my pale hair out of my face with my upper arm I my hand, touching the cold stone wall. My skin tone was washed out with vast array of colors, the white on my hands no longer showing, nails broken down and forming scabs by constant scraping on the rock walls. I don't bother questioning how I got here, in this lonely room. I press the tip of my finger harshly, making me cringe in pain, as if the harder I push the more visible it would be. I cannot remember, therefore it would be a bother to think of a reason how or why, as if it would serve me a subtle relief. Well it doesn't, so I don't. My fingers etch, swipe, paint, dab. Creating a sky with pinkish blue horizon, piercing red clouds dousing the fertile land with acid blood. My eyes dilate as the vision is displayed so vividly. The expertise of the technique was never flawed. I pushed harder and harder untill the red was more than just paint, it stung. I put my heart, my head and body into all my works. It only feels right, for I was gifted with visions of pain only not to feel the pain it unveils? No. Its intention is to share the outside world with me in visions and for me to re-create it. So I do. It courses through me in short spurts, throwing me into a exhaustion induced coma. When I wake up my mouth is dry and my tongue sticky, my eyes are crusted together and my white hair pasted to my temples. My shoulders are stiff but my body is used to the cramped confines of the room and the wooden floor as a bed. I lay in fetal position, bunching my skirts up and laying my head upon them. I bright flash startled me, I jumped up and hugged the wall. My eyes squint with the white flashing blindness. I squish myself against the wall, as if it would protect me.I stay in an anxious silence, keeping my attention towards the giver from the flames. The was a dark eclipse against the crippling light, a silhouette. My eyes flutter against this harsh enemy. As I embroider the body of darkness, they are the light, where there is light there is always a darkness. Light is able to sustain life unlike darkness, although darkness follow the light as a newborn duckling follows its mother. A tray of herbs slide smoothly towards me, a second later a jar of nuts and a jug of water. It starts to dim, I reach to grab the nuts, but it suddenly shines brighter. I jump up and let out a faint whimper. It quickly dissolves back into darkness.