It was like I was dreaming
I only remember bits and parts of it really
The floor was cold, I don't remember it being as cold as it was before
It was calm too, I also don't remember it being so quiet before
I might as well have been the only person on Earth for that matter
I took a few minutes to look around first
Didn't see anything too special similar to what I would've read in the books
I checked my messages and there were none not like what I read in the books
I looked down into my hands and saw my brush
I had just got done cleaning it and admired the practically untouched condition of it
Was there really a point of cleaning it? As if I was going to use a different color.
Then-it began
Unfortunately-it began
Like a skill or practice-it began
I started making small delicate strokes in the color I loved and hated so much
The color that has shown me my reflection many times
The color that I keep taking out of the paint drawer
RED
I was patient
I was calm
I was in control
Something changed after a while though
The paint that I thought would be thick sticky acrylic turned into something else
All of a sudden it came to me-It was now watercolors
Disgusted by the light red and semi-transparent color it had become
I grabbed more paint and I grabbed more and more and more!
Then I felt like I woke up
My canvas filled with the color
No sound
No heat
No light
Was it a new color?
Had I found a new color for once?
I got ahead of myself and felt excited
But I looked at my canvas and all I could see was
RED
I wish someone could take my brush away, but I keep finding new ones.