Painted Alternate

One of my favorite ideas that always gave me writer's block. Includes an excerpt.

Painted Alternate was an impromptu idea that I had while I was writing it. The first chapter came before the idea, which eventually spiraled off somewhere and I have no idea which of the many versions of the idea that I was sticking with so I just gave up. All in all, this was one of my more creative and well-thought out ideas that I honestly can't explain in a short paragraph so I'll just leave the first chapter here.

Excerpt - Painting

The night was still and quiet. The only thing that broke the silence was the occasional breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and the buzz of a bug flying by the girl’s window. Still, she could not sleep. The air was hot and humid and there was not a single breath of cold air to cool it.

Her eyes stared at the ceiling intently, as if measuring its surface. Her arms propped her head off her pillow and her covers were thrown away. Her eyes narrowed as the pupils slid along the ceiling’s edges. Yes, she thought, it should be about big enough.

Slowly, so not to disturb anyone that slept in the building, she got out of bed, her nightgown trailing like water behind her, and tiptoed to the small white cabinet in the corner of her room. She opened it slowly and took its contents out, one by one. Paint of every color, brushes of every size, canvases splattered with the rainbow and others that were blank, other various tools of the arts, and a small chest that glittered with jewels and graceful designs.

Smiling, she spread a long, paint-splattered sheet across her bed and moved all of her supplies on top of it. Carefully opening the lid of each paint bucket, she took the thickest of her brushes and dipped it in black. Looking up at the ceiling again, she measured it again, imagining the shapes she was about to form, and chose a spot to begin. With a deep breath, she stood up, raised the brush to the ceiling and began her work.

For an hour she drew lines and curves with the black paint, frequently dipping down to receive more from the bucket. Slowly, the lines and curves began to connect and flow into the shape of an almighty beast, terrible, yet beautiful, its jaws closed and its eye curious and calculating.

Once she was finished, the girl sat back on her bed and observed her work. After fixing a few spots in which there were imperfections, she was satisfied. She set down the brush and closed the lid of the black jar; there was no need for such a dark color anymore.

Giving it a bit of time to dry, she took hold of a small key that hung around her neck. She moved the jeweled chest closer to her and inserted the small golden trinket into its keyhole.

As the lock clicked open, everything seemed to go silent. The wind ceased to blow and the bugs silenced their buzzing. The lid slowly raised open and a beautiful light began to illuminate the room.

Inside the chest was a small oval orb, shining with every color of every spectrum. It’s surface was made of glass, or something of similar appearance. In the center of its belly was another orb, but not of glass, but of light alone. It twisted in a slow, circular motion without moving an inch around the interior.

The girl carefully took the orb out of the chest and stood up, raising it to the dragon she had painted.

“What color?” she asked. “What color should I paint it?”

After a few seconds delay, the orb began to shine green. The girl laughed. “Okay, green it is. Bright or dark?” Another couple of seconds and it turned white.

“Alright,” she responded, placing the orb back in the chest. Taking another brush, slightly finer than the one she had painted the outline with, she dipped it it light green paint and stood to the drawing and began to fill it in, scale by scale.

For more hours, she worked, her room illuminated by the light of the orb as its sphere of light continued to turn round and round, creating strange patterns and shapes on the walls.

Slowly, the dragon began to take a more distinct appearance, with the addition of color. Its claws were painted short and white, its scale long and smooth, its eye bright and gold, its tail straight and elegant and its head thin with only two small horns sticking out the back of its skull. The sun had just begun to strike the sky as the girl set down the paintbrush, exhausted, yet proud. The dragon was etched across the center of the ceiling, its scales bright and green, woven with darker shades and various hues of red, white, and gold. Its wings were spread out to the side, a pale shade of spring green. The gold eyes stared down at the bed below. It seemed to glow with life and intelligence, though it was only a painting.

Smiling, the girl closed the caps of all of her paint cans and then lifted the orb to the dragon again and said, “How do you like it?”

Without hesitation, the orb’s colors began to dance and shoot around. The light rays struck the dragon, causing its multihued scales to glow and flash, making the impression that the painting was moving. Laughing with delight, the girl set the orb back into the chest where it calmed and resumed its soft glow and rotating.

She sealed the chest again and took all of her painting supplies back in the drawer, including the box containing the orb. She moved quickly back to her bed as she heard the sound of heeled feet pounding towards her room. She climbed back into bed, threw the covers over her, and closed her eyes just as the door burst open and a young woman in a tight red dress and brown hair caught in a tight bun burst in, shouting, “Rise and shine! It’s morning! Get dressed and get downstairs and don’t let me catch you slacking off!”

The girl groaned and replied, “Yes, Miss Bets.”

The door slammed behind her.

The girl crawled back out of her bed, suddenly sour. She took a long look at her beautiful dragon before turning towards the dresser which contained her clothes. She would never look at the painting again. She knew that it would be gone by the time she got back to her room. All the paintings were. The caretakers must scrub them off the walls and ceiling every day that a new one appeared.

After pushing herself into the peach dress she was required to wear day after day, the girl took one final glance at her dragon before opening the door and exiting the room.

As the orphanage bustled with activity as the day progressed, back in the girl's room, the sparkle of the orb began to spread across the dragon without its source in sight. It seemed to move once again, however it was stationary. After a few seconds, the shining stopped and everything seemed to be back to normal.

Until the wings flapped once.

And then again.

And again.

And the great beast blinked its eye and turned its head to observe its surroundings. Its wings moved into a steady beat as it kept itself aloft. Then it realized that there was no need, since it was suspended in art.

Its wings faltered as it found a different way of moving. It looked ahead and shot forward with only a moment’s hesitation as it found that its limbs worked, not by forcing, but by wishing.

With a silent roar of joy, the dragon flew around the ceiling of the room, its wings pressed tight against its body, its tail swinging instinctively, though uselessly, back and forth as it changed directions. Once it was done testing its movements, the dragon thought of another idea. It could see the bed below, thought it seemed far away, as if a veil was shading the view.

An urge, a very powerful, screaming urge, overcame the dragon and it reached out one claw to touch the bed.

As it moved forward, the claw slowly began to take form beyond the flat, painted canvas of its original form. As it moved into a three dimensional world, real, hard, lizard-like scales replaced the paint. It began to take a more realistic tone and shape as the claw drew away from the ceiling. Inspired by its success, the dragon began to drag the rest of its body out of its painted form and touched the air of the real world.

As soon as both its wings were free, its body dropped and the dragon panicked. It had learned to fly by wishing, but now it had to sustain its own weight with its own strength.

Using its wings before hitting the bed, the dragon managed to lift itself up and softly land of the covers. The thing was smaller than it had been painted, as it was only a child in this world, but it was still a formidable size. Deciding that it couldn’t stay in such a closed environment, the dragon crawled over to the small window, and smashed right into it in its attempts to leave.

Noticing a small knob at the top, the dragon figured that moving this knob would do something that allowed the glass to move away. With great effort, the dragon managed to turn the rusty knob to the side, however, it was disappointed as the window did not change.

Looking around for something else that could help, the dragon found a lever on the bottom, parallel with the floor. Hopeful, the dragon grasped it between its teeth and pulled upwards. Slowly, the window began to slide up. Using every ounce of muscle in its body, it managed to force the window open. As the first breath of summer air hit the dragon’s face, it almost cried out with joy, but contended with leaping out the window and spreading its wings to meet the sky.

As it was wrapped up in its happiness, it cast a look back at the room. The girl that had painted it...she would miss her dragon. And the dragon would miss her. Pausing in mid air, the dragon turned completely to look at the window. It narrowed its eyes. It wanted to see the world from a dragon’s sight, but leaving the girl was wrenching a hole in his gut.

So it swore that it would return if the light would ever shimmer for it again, calling it back to its birthplace so its purpose may be revealed.