I was awoken at 1:23 in the morning by the familiar screams of my family; those that happened long ago and now were merely figments of my imagination. The sounds followed me, changed me. I could not stop them. I had to go on, all alone, as if nothing had ever occurred. I went on, yet in my heart, I still remembered that fateful day.
Turning my attention to the ground, I immediately regretted taking a new route to school as I dragged my feet through the dusty terrain of the worksite rubble bordering the educational facility. Plumes of said sandy substance wafted over me, encasing me, denying me vision; yet as the dust cleared, an abode became apparent. Not for its gargantuan size, for it was merely similar to others, nor its Edwardian style, for there was no extreme flamboyancy in design, for its use of colour.
The vibrant hues danced in my mind, entrancing me in their spectacular beauty. Pallid turquoises weaved amongst bright teals created the façade of the dwelling, already entrancing passers-by. As the colours ran along the frame of the door, through gradience, they turned into a stark shade of magenta, with the addition of crimson a welcome surprise. The windows were lined with varying shades of blue and purple, yet the front wall stayed within the neutral colour palate to deny extreme extravagancy.
For several days afterwards, my mind flurried; speed cars of thought racing a never-ending track. I felt as if my mind could not rest, playing on the emotions of colour mingled with the sadness of past experiences. I walked through school, normal, calm on the exterior, yet inside was another story entirely. As I sat down in class, immediately I was given a task; to embrace surrealism and join the states of consciousness and unconsciousness into one piece of artwork. I closed my eyes, and drew. I looked down at my incoherent scribbles and noticed something. I noticed the house; the emotion that I felt as I saw the house, the suburban gem. I now understood. Both my conscious and unconscious mind felt the house's invoked emotions; the house was what allowed me to start to regain my happiness!
Every time I noticed the dwelling, my heart immediately soared; unexplained and overwhelming. This wasn't for the architecture, nor the beauty of the chosen colours, it was for the symbolism it invoked in me. My life had been like a whirlwind, spinning out of control after the incident, and the emotions felt that day daunted me, haunted me, taunted me, until I saw the house. I felt that it was a message for me, as the house gave me happiness; the colours allowing me to feel emotions all but lost to me. With that happiness came hope. The hope that brightness could appear in the darkest of days, and that the happiness I felt that day would remain in my heart, staying with me evermore.
