Maker's Wish

The makers were people that made beautiful works of art. From paintings, to jewelry. Wood carvings to metal work. However, in this world, they aren't valued. Because the people have everything needed provided for them. So, those outside the box things were unnecessary.

“Portrait? Portrait anyone?” shouts a young woman in a beret hat, with a curly bob hairstyle and an apron dress standing by her easel and chair station. She kept offering them her portraits, but the people just walked past her as if she were invisible.

She makes one last plea “I'd be willing to do it in gray scaaaale!!” but nobody took the offer. She eventually gave up painting. Other Makers dropped off, little by little. With no one to inspire, artistry could not be passed down through the generations. It couldn't survive. So, they stopped making supplies needed to create art. Having the means to create, being a painful reminder of their desire to make art. They agreed that all the remaining artwork and art supplies be buried in a cave. Never to be used again. And the makers? Well, nobody has seen them since.

Present day-

A cloaked figure holding a heart locket places it into in a basket. “This is for you, Landon. My dear friend.”

Sitting idle on the gray floor, pouring plain oatmeal from a bowl with a spout, into his mouth. He watched the clock waiting for it to turn 8 AM. When the usual post stork would blur past the window as it flew onto his doorstep to deliver necessities.

“My basket's here.” He stumbles to his feet, and heads for the door to grab it. Carrying it to a nearby table where he would account for all his morning needs. Each thing labeled in accordance with it's purpose. “Soap, Hair Soap, Cloth Soap, my clothes. And..?” What is this? It doesn't seem to have a label, or instructions. How am I supposed to know how to use it? At the bottom of the basket sat what looked like a heart shaped stone attached to a mini chain. “I can't really do anything with it if it doesn't have instructions.” I'll just leave it.

He takes the basket and places it back on the porch to be taken, then closes the door. Goes to the bathroom, undresses, and pushes the button on the shower. Its set to the perfect temp, lukewarm. Just the way he likes it. He gets in, empties the Hair Soap into the palm of his hand, just the right amount, then washes his hair. He pours the “Soap” into a gray sponge scrubbing his body top to bottom, then rinses off, the water stopping as soon as he finished. He towels off, then he gets dressed in the jumpsuit, his name stitched across the chest, “Drew.” He slips on his shoes for his morning stroll. Just as he opens the door, a scream goes through the crack.

“RAAAAH” Was that a person? I'm not sure. I can't make out any words. His feet, compelled by the voice, started to move towards its source, leading him to the edge an open field. Where he sees a young woman, hunched over, roaring. “YAAAAH” Maintaining his distance, as he walked closer. He noticed her intense eyes like that of a predator peeking out from behind the disheveled silvery strands of long hair. Tears streaming down her face. “ROOOOH” she growls. Due to the coarseness of her voice, she must've been doing it for a long time. Likely, for hours. Unable to stop herself. But when I called out to her “Hey!” Her head jerked in my direction. She pauses, gripping the heart stone, desperate to get the words out “Its the locket.” Losing control, she strains out one last scream “RAUUUU” before her body falls to the ground. Drew goes to check on her. Luckily, she was just sleeping. The softness of the black field of grass cushioned her fall. He briefly looked at what she called “the locket”, and then returned home.

The next day, when his basket came he did his routine check, sitting at the bottom, surprise! The locket was back.

He sighs “If I can't get rid of it, I'll just keep it.” It's not like I have to use it. whatever it's used for. Remembering the girl. “I hope she's okay.” Wonder what mine would be like. I shouldn't think about that. Its dangerous. “I'll go for a walk and clear my head.”

Down a narrow pathway, he come across a man about his age on a nearby wall, making broad strokes with his hands across it. He looks frightened, like he was trying run away from something he couldn't escape. But he also had a pained grin on his face. Yet, he kept going. He moved up, down, all around. Swirling, blotting, striping, dotting. Detail after detail, stroke after stroke, nothing appearing on the wall.

“You're hands hurt don't they?” Drew asks.

“Y-yes.” He answers not even looking at me, eyes fixated on the wall.

“Then, why keep going?”

“I need to. I don't know why. It's never been necessary before.”

I wanted to know more! Ever since the locket appeared, I started to become intrigued by what I call “explosions.” And it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. I turned to walk away, worried it might be affecting me to be near an “explosion” for too long. Just then, a figure wearing a hooded cloak approached me.

“Have you not opened yours?” The cloaked man asks Drew.

“What do you mean?” Drew responds.

“The locket.” He says.

“Don't you wonder what you could be?” Take him for instance, doesn't know it yet, but he's a Painter.” The mysterious man says.

Drew stared at the man, confused. “A painter?”

The man continues. “Imagine if he had paint when he started on that wall, it'd be gorgeous. Such dedication and artistry. Even without the means to bring it to life, he continues crafting the image making it muscle memory. So that when the opportunity arises, his vision can manifest.”

He turns to me, “When wondering gets to be too much, you're welcome to come over for a drink and a chat. All you have to do is follow the path south out of the city, and you'll be there before you know it.”

“Oh, come to think of it you I haven't told you my name yet. Its Julian.”

“Anyway, painter boy's been waiting long enough.”

“Gotta get him some paint.” said in a singsong-y tone as he walks off toward the Painter.

Julian sees the label on the boy's jumpsuit “Paiton, is it?”

Paiton jumps “Y-yes?” continuing stroking the wall.

“I know you're scared. We all are, first. When you're ready, use this.”

Julian hands him for tubes of paint.

Paiton snatches the tubes, looks at them, then at Julian.

“Tooth paste?” he asks.

Julian lets out a hearty laugh. “OOOHA! WOOHAHA!! Nope! Its paint. A blend of cream and pigment. Definitely don't want it in your mouth, but the wall will be just fine.”

He looks at Paiton's hands. “Way less painful than what you were doing, too.”

Julian puts his hand on Paiton's shoulder and bids him farewell with a wave

“Good luck!” then vanishes.

Julian's words echoed in his head, “ Don't you wonder what you could be?”

He ran back home determined to open the locket and see for himself. A scary thought popped into his head. What will happen to me when I open it? When he got home, he flung the door open wildly, then paused to catch his breath. His eyes, trained on the basket where the locket rested. Swallowing his fear, he considered what he was about to do a moment longer before racing to the kitchen and returning armed with a snug pair of rubber gloves. Then, reluctantly he opened it. He stared at it waiting for something to happen.

“Huh?”

Unlike the others, he wasn't seeing or feeling like doing anything specific. “There's nothing inside?” The only thing he did differently was that he still hadn't put it on. He wondered, If he wore it too, maybe he could grasp what was destroying this world.” He compelled himself to put on the necklace. He fumbled with the clasp in his gloved hands for a minute until it came undone. Positioning it where he could clasp it behind his head, he gripped it firmly and fastened it around his neck.

As the chain clicked into place, a thin layer of tone started to fade away as his dull eyes began adapting to see something else. Something brighter, a hue unlike anything he'd ever seen before. His eyes hurt, whatever he was seeing with his new found sight was prying his pupils open and flowing in like rushing water. He shut his eyes in a frantic attempt to stop it, but when he reopened them, the monochromatic world kept getting brighter around him. As quickly as he could he tried to take off the necklace, but to no avail. The only way to remove it, being the clasp on the back.

Desperately he fussed with the little closure that was proving a lot more difficult to work with behind his head than he'd expected. He relished a brief moment of respite as he removed the chain from his collar and brought it before his chest. Shock washed over him when he saw his once gray-tone hands through the gloves with a warm tint of peach, and in them, dangling from its chain, the once colorless heart locket, was now a pearl red.

“Color... why does it make me feel so... empty?” An explosion of curiosity burst forth from within him. “I have to know more about the locket and the explosions.” He grabbed a flashlight, filled his backpack with some supplies and set out to see Julian.

Following Julian's directions and came to a forest. But not a normal forest with black leaved tress and gray trunks. These trees were filled with things he had never seen before. They were all colorful. As he continued south, a small house tucked deep in the woods came into view from behind the trees. He walked up to the door and just before he could knock Julian flung the door open “Welcome!!” like he'd been expecting him. “Come in”

He walked in, eyes still adjusting to the various misshapen lockets hanging from the ceiling. Julian offers to get him “Something to drink? Coffee, juice, cocoa, tea? All of the above?”

Drew picks “A glass of water.”

“Ugh, so boring.” Julian unsatisfied with Drew's choice says, while pouring water into a cup.

“Though, clear is nice color.” Julian inspects the cup as he passes it to Drew.

“Anyways, figure out what you desire?” He goes in for a sip of his mixed drink.

“What's inside the locket?”

Julian takes a big gulp of his drink before he could spit it out. “Isn't it obvious?

Drew pauses, Julian takes it for an answer.

“Its nothing.” Julian smiles.

Drew furrowed his brow, looking at him skeptically “What do you mean? Then what made them act that way?”

Julian takes a sip of his drink.

“The locket doesn't do anything in particular by itself. It's their very emptiness that reminds us of our desire. The environment in this city is tailor made to be uninspiring. So with no outlet for our creativity, when we encounter our hollowness, we burst. All the unfulfilled dreams we have to contribute, pour out of us in the form of destruction. And it will keep happening if we don't channel it. Creativity can just as quickly breakdown, as it can make up. The question is, can we afford to live like we could never have that desire inside of us, anymore?”