contrast - a SetoSolace short story

The First 'Ting'

Day and night.

Brice never really got the difference between day and night. To him, nothing really changed, besides the fact that the sky just became darker and those glimmering stars in the sky decided to make themselves seen to the world.

It wasn't like all the trees fell over at sunset and straightened themselves up again when the sun rose. It wasn't like the Earth decided to fall asleep at night and you could hear loud snoring sounds reverberating throughout the floorboards, making the house shake and tremble. It wasn't like gravity would stop functioning and all the furniture in his house would stick to the ceiling, as if some magical force were pulling it to the sky.

Everything was the same, besides the fact that the world became darker and a lot more colder, as if someone had cast an illusion that blanketed the whole world.

Brice was always alone, living his silent, empty house. Listening to the sound of his footsteps shuffling and nothing else. Sitting at a huge dining table, only to realise that he was the only one there. Whipping up a storm in the kitchen, preparing food fit to be a banquet, but only the sound of his chewing could be heard in the dining hall.

As he walked past all the paintings hanging in the hallways, he always wished that he could magically teleport himself into the scene and join the people, escape from the lonely, dark haven of his, perhaps make some contact with the outside world.

He thought about Cinderella a lot. It wasn't that he had an obsession with glass slippers. He was just slightly inspired by how Cinderella, with a pinch of luck, managed to escape from her wretched life and start everything over on a clean slate. Oh, how much he wanted that to happen to him.

He always imagined himself wearing a white tuxedo at a ball, smiling at all the ladies who were obsessing over him, while he walked up to a masked lady and bowed down to her. Then, he would proceed to kiss her hand, before asking her for a dance. Maybe she would accept. Maybe he would bring her into the gardens where they would both waltz under the moonlight. Perhaps they would run off and leave, making a silent exit from the ball and disappearing off the face of earth, no one ever hearing of them again. He smiled to himself.

How romantic.

His face darkened as he walked back to his room.

In his life, he had only been to 3 places. The City, the forest, and well, his home. His house was pretty simplistic. It was made out of oak wood logs, with some glass windows that were tainted golden. He had even added a small cobblestone path leading to his house, with a few flowers blooming along the path.

Too bad he was the only one ever there to admire the flowers.

He used to have big dreams about expanding his house, perhaps giving it better exterior and interior design and brightening it up a little. However, he had never managed to bring himself to do it. The only resources he could obtain were from the forest. Purchasing ornaments would require making a trip to the City, but going there after being 'politely' kicked out was not one of the things on his to-do list.

Brice was lonely.

Sometimes, he tried to paint. Splashing some colour on the canvas, be it pastel of neon, always managed to cheer him up. He loved experimenting with colours. Painting proved that differences could always be overcome. Paint with completely different values always had some way to be mixed. People with completely different backgrounds could always become closer to each other.

Perhaps that was why artists in the City were a rare sight.

Brice's paintings used to be filled with colour. Warm colours, cool colours. But, slowly but surely, the colours began to seep out of the paintings. They gradually became darker and darker, lighter and lighter. Greys, blacks were everywhere. Occasionally, some whites. All the colour seemed to have magically vanished, along with bits and pieces of Brice's empty soul.