Stickman

The classroom was very dismal and colorless that day, as it was every other day. Each student sat at a sketching desk in neat circles around the room and each circle had a still life that the students were to sketch. Everything was prim and proper, just as the professor saw it to be. He had one rule in his class: realism. To him, that's all there was, and that's all there should be. If anyone dared to draw a fantasy creature of some sort, their grade dropped to a zero, and they failed the class. He did not tolerate fantasy, and he refused to use any of these fables in his art. As the students sketched in their circles, the professor stepped in. His hands were neatly folded behind his back and the steady clicking of his heels carried a perfect beat, but his steps were disrupted by non-uniform taps on the floor, as if someone were fumbling down a dark hall. The professor stopped in the center of the room and pivoted to the side so the students could see a timid little girl nervously standing in the center of attention. Her backpack jingled as she leapt behind her father, trying to avoid the attention.
The professor chuckled and walked the timid girl to an empty desk in one of the circles. She climbed into the seat as her father lowered the angle of her desk, so she could clearly see a victorian vase with bland roses poking out, standing straight as if they were soldiers marching. The little girl smiled as she pulled out a bright red crayon. It was so vibrant that it seemed to make the room more bland and colorless than before. She scribbled on her paper for a few moments before slamming her crayon down and raising her hand and waving it excitedly to call her father over and see. He then walked to his daughter and leaned over her shoulder to examine her artwork. -All the students watched as the calm face of the professor turned into disgust and irritation. The little girl had drawn a vibrant vase made out of water that sprouted red cherries at the top like dolphins leaping out of the ocean. She smiled at her father, but frowned when she saw his unsatisfied look. He quickly unclipped the art and discarded the paper, moving his daughter to a new seat, hoping she'll do better this round. She felt her heart sink at the dissatisfaction of her father.
She sat in a new circle with a new still art; It was a marble statue of a women with no arms facing the sky blankly. She cocked her head at the strange idea the statue's artist had, but soon began drawing with her crayons, making her own artwork out of it. The professor was pacing around the room watching his students when he saw they were all facing his young daughter. The students that could see her art seemed hypnotized by the scribbles and lines. He bent over, pleaded with the attention she was getting, when he saw a horrid picture of a knight with no arms facing a winged beast that spewed flames in all directions. He grimaced and took her art, crumbling it up and throwing it into the trash. She felt fear as she saw the anger in her father's eyes. He then moved her to the final station. He sat next to her as if he were a coach, pointing to the final still life. It was three simple shapes on a table: A simple sphere, a miniature pyramid, and a smooth cube. The professor looked at the shapes and then back at his daughter, seeing no way she could mess up. She made eye contact with her father for a second before reaching for her book bag full of crayons. She ripped out a rainbow of colors and began scribbling all over the paper, and her father's mouth gaped at the sight of the three abstract designs. He could barely make out an ancient temple for the pyramid, a cube shaped fish tank with make believe mermaids and fish inside, and a bright red ball of yarn for the sphere that was dissolving into butterflies of the same color. Her father stood, casting a dangerous shadow over her work as she slowly turned to see her father's angry face. He was enraged and took her work, ripping it in two and tossing it into the trash. He then took his daughter to a desk in the corner and pulled out a piece of paper, drawing a pathetic stickman and slammed it to the wall with tape. He held a stern finger at the scribbles, commanding her to draw the sketch and not get up until she did. She took a breath and reached for her bookbag when suddenly, her father snatched her backpack and threw it onto his desk, leaving the room and slamming the door behind him. She winced at the thunderous bang of the door which sent shudders down her spine. She stared at her blank paper, embarrassed of all the eyes watching her. Hiding her face, she slowly picked up the colorless number 2 pencil next to her. It hurt to think about drawing with such a bland stencil. She stayed motionless for seconds...minutes...hours.
One by one, the students left the room to go home, and eventually, left her alone. Her father wasn't back yet and she still hadn't drawn her picture. She finally managed to create a crooked circle and five lines for arms, a back, and legs. She saw the colorless piece of art and felt dissatisfied, throwing it off her desk beginning to cry. She folded her arms and placed her head in them, tearing up. She cried wishing she could make the stickman beautiful and colorful as she wanted, but her father didn't want that. It wasn't what she was told to do.
After a few moments, the girl stood up and carried the paper to her father's desk. She placed it on the cold surface and went to leave...when she noticed something...her paper was blank. Shuffling back, she flipped it over. Blank. She quickly gazed around the room wondering where her art went when suddenly, she saw a distorted stickman sitting on the shoulder of a painting on the far wall. She gasped and ran to the picture as the stickman leapt away, jumping from one piece of art to the next. The stickman ran across the paper, laying flat but moving forward, never coming off the paper, as if it were a 2D flipbook and it could not pass the paper's boundary. The little girl frantically chased the stickman, knocking over shelves of paper and desks of art. Pencils scattered and chairs flipped as she pursued the drawing. He was too quick and the little girl could not stop him, but she then had an idea and grabbed a pencil. Running toward the stickman, he looked up at her from a sheet of paper. She pounced on him and quickly drew a crooked circle around him. He attempted to run, but the wall of the circle stopped him, that's when the door of the classroom slowly opened. The little girl sprang up and hid the paper with the stickman on it behind her back. Her father walked in with a cup of tea and gasped at the sight of the room. He looked at his daughter and gestured toward the mess, commanding her to clean it immediately. She nodded and miserably began cleaning. Once her father left the room, she pulled out the paper with the stickman. The stickman looked up at the girl, and the little girl looked at the stickman. As she looked at him, she saw something missing. She picked up a pencil from the floor and drew fingers on the stickman. The figure looked at its hands and bent each finger as if to feel them move. The girl then drew two beady eyes and a small mouth. The stickman felt his face and looked up at the child. She giggled when she saw the stickman make a goofy face as if he was trying to understand how to use it. That's when she slowly erased the circle so the stickman could move freely. He slowly stepped out of the smudged area and looked at the girl. They made eye contact for a split second when suddenly, the stickman disappeared. He ran across the room and the girl lost track of him. The door hung open, and she suspected he had made his escape. He was gone. Losing hope, she slowly stood to begin cleaning her mess.
The little girl quietly stacked papers and placed pencils in neat lines when suddenly, a green crayon rolled to her foot. She looked up to ses the stickman on a piece of paper looking at her. She slowly raised the crayon and the stickman held his arms out, as if begging for a hug. She then drew a shirt on the stickman. She looked at it questioningly as if the Stickman was going to discard it like her father, but he did the opposite, he lept for joy. The little girl giggled as the stickman danced. The stickman then pointed to another student's drawing which pictured a man and a dog. She quickly drew wings on the dog and watched as it came to life. The drawing of the man threw a ball and the dog soared to the painting it landed in on the far side of the room. The girl giggled and ran around the classroom coloring on all sorts of works of art and watching them come to life. Then, both her and the Stickman saw large rolls of paper, and that's when they had an idea.
The little girl taped the sheets of paper around the whole room creating a panorama of white, then, she and the Stickman created a jungle of mythical creatures. She laughed as she drew elephants with mice feet and cats with antlers. She giggled at the fairies she colored that fizzled around. Her favorite thing she'd drawn was a large bird with a pirate eye patch and a peg leg. Then, the peg legged bird took off and soared around the panoramic paper, causing a whirlwind to take place in the classroom. Papers flew and the little girl held her arms out as if she were flying. She shut her eyes and chuckled at the wonderful feeling of freedom. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was in her panoramic jungle and no longer in the classroom. She saw the stickman nearby riding a mouse legged elephant made from crayons. He leapt to the little girl and they jumped off a cliff, landing on the pirate bird. She laughed at the sight of the world around her and squealed when she saw origami animals hooting and chirping at her.
The trio landed at the top of a waterfall where large cherries were bouncing around, like dolphins. They ran through the forest to see a dragon soar over them and land on a hill, blowing flames all around. The girl covered her face from the heat and saw a knight with no arms face the dragon. The man ran up to the beast and instantly, they became best friends, just as she had imagined in her picture. She watched as they soared over her and lead her and the stickman to a large monument: It was an ancient temple with vines and plants sprouting in every direction. They climbed to the top and saw a square fish tank next to them full of mermaids and fish of all sorts, the fish leapt out of the water and splashed the girl in a friendly manner. She then watched as a large red yarn ball rolled by them and exploded into a million butterflies of the same color that surrounded the little girl and the stickman. She laughed with the stickman as she shut her eyes and felt the strong breeze around her.
When she opened her eyes, she saw she was back in the classroom. The last of the papers ahd hit the floor and all of her art was frozen. The lights were out and the only light that was on was in the back corner where the little girl drew the stickman. Without noticing the mess in the dark room, the Professor walked in. He looked at his daughter before walking to the back desk. He picked up her drawing of the Stickman and examined it, making a disgusted face. It was a crooked stickman with fingers and a happy grin. He had a green shirt on and a satisfied look on his face. Upset with his daughter's colorful work, he tore up the paper into many pieces and walked back to his unlit desk, tossing the shards into the trash. The girl gasped and dug for them as her father sat and turned on a small lamp on the far side of his desk. The little girl teared up as she faced the remains of her best friend. She held them close to her trying not to drop any pieces when suddenly, a wind gust caught them and they soared off as a group into the air. She stood to her feet chasing them, trying to catch them in her arms, but they were too quick, and eventually soared to the lightswitch near the door. The lights came on all at once and the little girl's father was awestruck at what he saw. All over the room were drawings and colorings of make believe creatures running and soaring. The panorama on the wall of a jungle of animals amazed him as they stampede in circles around the room. He had never seen such creativity. The papers all over the floor seemed to create a puzzle of art, a collage of detail. He was inspired. He had never been able to achieve such greatness in his life, and here his daughter was, creating work better than he could. When the animals slowly went back to their dormant state, the father turned to his daughter. He slowly walked over to her and lifted a finger to her. Expecting to be scolded, she braced herself, but a small green crayon rolled across the floor and hit her father's foot. The little girl slowly opened her eyes to see her father walk over to the panorama and color a make believe stick lizard on the wall. His art used to be so perfect and realistic, and now it looked like kindergarten work, but it was different. It was his. All his life he had been creating what he had been taught in school and expected of at home, when really, this was the art he wished to achieve. He thought his daughter would succeed if she was shaped the way he was, when really, the way their art is was real success, real beauty. The little girl squealed and joined her father in coloring make believe animals all over the room. Color had entered her father, as did his true artwork. All because of one little sketch of a stickman that inspired a little girl... all because of one little stickman...