The Painter's Blood

Like Clockwork

He was a child, and he was not. He knew this, but he did not know it was the reason for his persecution. He remembered nothing before the moment his gears had begun to tick.
As far as he knew, he never had skin or bones; it caused something complex to jolt inside of him sometimes. When people would pass on the street, he was avoided as if he were a plague. Other children were not allowed to play with him; after a while, he didn't mind. The doctor was a good caretaker, and Genos was grateful to him; but he really preferred to be alone. In the deepest parts of the wood, he would conjure the most magical beings. He wasn't the best, he figured; other people could do this too, right?
With a simple movement of his hand, a masterpiece could be born. He enjoyed it thoroughly; creating rabbits to hop through the air, and fish to swim with the currents of the wind. He did not know, as he laughed at his lovely creations, that he was being watched. Each day, eyes were on him from sunup to sundown.
On the occasion that he returned home splattered with paint, he would say that he was painting in town; the doctor always seemed to believe his lies.
"Genos," the doctor frowned as he entered, his face grave. "A beast has been spotted on the edge of the wood. Please stay in town for the next few days, okay?"
Genos did not know about this beast, nor it's connection to him. He nodded and told the doctor that he would obey.

Sleep was not an option for Genos. Or at least, he thought so. He didn't see the point in laying in darkness for eight hours. He sat up in his bed, the frame creaking slightly.
He was still young, so what happened next was not entirely his fault; he would still blame himself, regardless.

He sat in his backyard, twirling his fingers around. Between his hands, a small sliver swam through the air. It shone with oranges and yellows, and when Genos had finished, he added two red eyes. It was a snake, thin and graceful and happy, much like Genos' mood. He smiled as it tapped his face with its nose, leaving a smear of colour.
It glided through the air, it's scales luminescent. Genos laughed and began to shape another creature, when a shriek broke through the air.
"A witch!" It was a woman on her way to the well. "Quickly, help! The little metal boy is a witch after all!"
Genos blinked and looked around. He had been told that witches were scary hags with roots for fingers and warts on their faces; he did not see a witch.
Several men seized him by the arms, blue paint still dripping from his fingertips. They were rough with him, and he cried out as a dent was put in his shoulder plating. The townsfolk gathered around him, their eyes wide at the painted snake gliding around him.
It gave a tiny hiss and a woman fainted dramatically. Genos was confused; he didn't know what was going on, or why he was being put in the stomach of a giant, iron elephant. Before the door closed, the snake tried to defend him. Tears ran down Genos' cheeks as it was splattered against the stone path.
The door closed and it began to get hot; very hot. Genos hummed in confusion and sat down, creating. His creations became stiffer as the heat rose, and he frowned when his yellow and blue frog could no longer hop about. Genos tapped the wall curiously.
It had been a few hours, and the small space seemed more and more to Genos like an oven. He sighed and propped his head up on his hands. He did not know that the villagers were trying to kill him.

When it began to cool down, Genos began to create more creatures. His frog had dried up completely, and he tried his best not to think about it. Instead, he made butterflies of all different shapes and colours. The tips of their wings glowed like embers, and their delicate veins pulsed with dull light.
When the doors opened, the butterflies flew out as Genos emerged. The villagers were nowhere to be seen.
Instead, he saw the doctor; his face was worried and he was bleeding from a wound on his arm. "Genos?!"
Genos ran to him, the butterflies gliding along with him. "Doctor? What happened?!"
"After the villagers..." The doctor looked guilty for a moment, then shook his head to clear it. "Locked you up... Yes, after they locked you up a terrible beast rampaged through the town. It killed everyone, and... I'm surprised you're alive."
Genos knew that the doctor was hiding something. The beast would not have been able to get into the iron door of the elephant, so why...
Genos knew, but he did not know why. "The people were trying to kill me..."
The doctor grimaced and nodded. "Once the beast was gone, I put out the fire they lit beneath you. I expected to see nothing but liquid metal... But I suppose my spell of protection worked..."
"Spell?" Genos asked. He knew that magic was something that witches knew, but... Did having magic make you a witch? He supposed not, from what he had heard about witches. The doctor was a good man.
"Genos. I want to teach you how to use the tools of my trade." The doctor said, then waved his hand, producing a tiny ball of light. "There is magic in us both, and I want to show you how to use it. Let us go, away to a place that will welcome us."

And they left. Countless cities and towns, countless escapes in the dead of night. Like clockwork was their routine: arrive, beguile, create, depart. Often their departure was seen to by a mob of torches and sharp tools.
Genos and the doctor found no safe haven. Until one day, they did.

//1,017 words. Did I do good? Yes? Then bow before mein awesomeness!
//kidding, kidding. Anyways, I like writing this, so tell me if I should continue.