Canvas

Avatar Author: Antoine E Butler Sr I used to write, a lot. But it went to a bad place. Maybe ficly can fix that. Long story short, I have 4 scripts almost entirely played out in my head but I CAN NOT write them down. Not after... 1996. I can never write... Read Bio

Surrounded by scratched and scarred, cold metal walls. I ponder. A machine, small enough to, like me, call this prison a home? A beast, so strong it could etch it’s message into this man-made barricade?

Hints of color catch my eye. Unable to stand. The ceiling is too low, I crawl. Scraping my knees and palms against the rough beneath me. Browns and yellows, bleed into oranges and reds. Is this an ominous sign of things to come?

Remanence of a prior guest. Consumed with panic, fear, desperation or… hope?

My pupils are stretched wide aimlessly seeking light if only to better identify these stains. How much closer can I get before I see nothing at all? Perhaps, one more drag of my worn body against this floor is necessary.

There, so beautifully simple. It’s depth, it’s story is so clear. Art exists even in the absence of light and life. Only knowing the sound of your own voice for so long, imagine the serene sound of scratching metal.

“Boom, boom” I hear from outside this… canvas. They’ve come for me.

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Comments (2 so far!)

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  1. Avatar gĀ²LaPianistaIrlandesa

    Hm… the first bit has me a tad confused; what machine are you talking about? I may just be missing something (has been known to happen), but I don’t see another machine really mentioned in this.
    That bump aside, everything else works very well. I especially liked the rather jerky pacing, it felt very real for this sort of situation.
    Thanks for entering!

  2. Avatar Antoine E Butler Sr

    @g2, thanks. It was my attempt to express how strong someone or thing would have to be to scar the walls. As in, a human couldn’t be so strong. In hindsight, it was a bit cryptic and out of place with out further explanation.

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