Short stories

Canvas

There's a magical place where dragons roamed free. A place where sirens hummed a tune. A place where magical fish splashed in the water. A place where the angels sings a lovely song. A place where my heart floats in a never ending happiness.

Here, there are lots of other hearts. Black ones, blue ones, yellow ones, red ones, green ones... Yet, I seem to be the only white canvas. Not a single paint stroke on my pure body. But that's how everyone likes it.

No one here can talk, hear, see, feel. For we have no senses. There is no mistake words, no racial comments, no war, and no thoughts. A place where everyone is happy with who they are... Expect me. For some reason, I have thought. I have feeling.

Everyone around me seems so happy. They float around as if no one else is there. The dragons come and swoop up some black ones. The sirens lull some green ones to them. The waves pull in some blue  ones. Yet, no one touches me. Not even the angels, who lead the yellow ones away, stop to look at me.

Am I defective? Do I not process the features the others do? Am I different? Is that so wrong? Why? Why do I feel so down because of this?

A bit of blue craves a line in my white.

No! I'm not to blame! The others are the ones who are different. They horrid creatures! It was them that poured the white pain on me!

Black like night circles my canvas.

But why do I so much want to be like them? I want to be a color. I want to be something. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want color. I want to be like the rest of them.

Green splashes on my white.

Wait! I should be happy. I was the only one of my kind. Yeah, that's it! I am still me. I am one of a kind. I have love and I'm still here and alive.

Yellow created it's won path one me.

I wonder what'll happen in the future. I hope it'll be nothing bad. I wish it'll be all good things. Tomorrow will never be the same as you'd hope. But I'll live through it.

Red filled the remaining white...

Blackness took over and the last thing I saw and heard was a white heart, a tiny heart. As pure as it could be. And as it turned black, I knew. We were different. He was black and I was colorful. He screamed, "I hate this!"