Fresh Colours

First there was the cold grey hard wall. Then there was the soft plush carpet. A dark black carpet that held the stains remarkably well. There was dust, naturally, but it only lingered in the corners where the wall met the skirting boards. A long grey line of dust, and fluff that marked a 3d outline of its scenery.

The ceiling was white.

On one wall was a hole about 10cm tall and 30cm long that met the floor. If it peered through it the it could see a dark tunnel but it had to press its ear close to the carpet to do so and that was rough against its ear. The other walls were bare and solid.

Sometimes things came through the hole. Mostly food. Once there was a round spherical object that it threw against the wall and it bounced back and then it threw it again and then it bounced back. That was fun for a brief while.

One day a small see through hard object came through the hole that looked like water but it wasn't water. It smelled strong and tasted bad and made it dizzy but happy when it drank it. It felt a little ill after.

One day a long cylindrical object came through the hole. It smelled strong like the funny water. One end of it popped off and the inside left a black mark against its skin. It tasted bad. This wasn't a food thing.

One day it picked up the cylindrical object and drew all over one wall with it. When it went to sleep it was gone when it woke up.

Then it drew a line on the wall one morning and forgot about it. Another ball came in and it played ball until the food came. Then there was water, then it went to sleep. When it woke up the line remained on the wall.

It was confused. The cylinder remained where it has left it but the ball had rolled into the tunnel and down the slope beyond it. The fur from its ears twitched as it pressed it to the floor to see where it had gone.

Unimpressed, it picked up the cylinder and made to draw another line on the wall. But the ball was sent rolling back. Confused. It picked up the ball but not before making another dash.

This repeated itself for many, many wakings.

One day, it woke up. The corner where it lay was comfy and warm. There was a big fluffy blanket and several thin ones. and a handful of cushions in many different colours that were piled together in a sort of nest. It liked to curl up under the fluffy blanket and wrap the thin ones around itself like a cocoon. It made sense for what was coming.

It woke up but didn't move from its nest.

It was comfy and feeling lazy. It turned it head and glanced at the wall of markings. There were many on the far wall. A veritable print of rows and columns and it was very good at keeping the black markings off its hands when it used the marking cylinder now.

It wondered what would happen if it didn't mark the wall today. So it stayed in bed and only left for food.

There was less food today but it didn't fuss because he hadn't done very much today.

It woke with a start during the night, frowned, and an overwhelming feeling of dread rippled through it. Something, something, bad feel. Very bad feel. It picked up the marker and drew a line on the wall alongside the others. Yes. Good feel. Better.

And then it returned to sleep.

It woke up again, feeling rested, and crawled out of its bedding. It stared at the wall. It was running out of space. There were many lines there now. Too many to count. It smiled. It had done this. This creation on the wall that changed it. Made it different.

Different was good, yes?

The next day. The marks were gone and it howled. It screamed for a long time and then went back to bed. The ball appeared at one point. It pushed it back through the tunnel and stuffed a green pillow in the hole and then went back to sleep.

There was no food that day.

With a hungry belly, it woke and stared angrily at the tunnel hole. The green pillow was no longer there, it sat in the opposite corner. Fresh, and washed, and smelled sweet and clean. It glared at it and then turned its attention to the new development.

Beside the black marker on the floor, was a new marker. A green one. Its mouth dropped open.

It rushed at it, picked it up and immediately drew a long green line on the fresh clean grey wall. It smiled, excited and drew a dot in black beneath it. Black and green.

It had never paid attention to the pillows before but now it had an idea. It grabbed a yellow one and mashed it into the tunnel. It pressed its foot on it, ramming it hard through the tunnel till it almost got stuck and then it waited.

It waited and it waited and it waited.

But waiting was boring and eventually it went to sleep. Hungry and bored.

One. It woke up excited. Three colours sat on the carpet. Black. Yellow. Green. The wall was bare again but it didn't matter. It drew three lines. Black. Yellow. Green.

Food came and it nibbled away. Thinking about all these colours.

Two. Black yellow green. Green black yellow.

Three. Black yellow green. Green black yellow. Yellow yellow green black. Another pillow today.

Four. Black yellow green. Green black yellow. Yellow yellow green black. Green black green blue.

And so it continued. Every time it woke it would draw a line and play with the colours.

And when the colours stopped. The creature had six beautiful colours to play with. There was black, green, yellow, blue, pink, white, orange. It drew and drew and drew. And one day, it drew a pillow.

A neat black square that it coloured in with all the colours.

The next day. A multicoloured pillow sat in the room beside it and the creature wept with excitement. It hugged it tight and carried it around the room and cooed at it and sang. It marked the day on the second wall.

And so the second wall became the marking wall. The passage of time that let the creature now when time had passed. On the first wall it would draw things and sometimes they would appear. When it wanted the ball back it would draw a round thing it called a circle and the ball would roll back in.

It was exciting. Since it could not squeezed through the tiny hole it would bring things to it. It would fill the space with nice. It peered out into the tunnel again. Nothing. Just deep dark black and from the black came the marker. From the black came things.

One day. It tried to draw itself. It picked up the black marker and bit open the tube of it. There was much black inside it. Liquid black and it poured all over. It smashed its face into it and marked its face and pressed its face against the wall.

The liquid black soaked into the wall and its skin and it dried in. It took a step back and looked at the shape it had left.

Long circle with two misshapen holes where the see was. Along thing between them where the nice smell twitched. A long thin line where the food went. It was confused and stared it until the food came and then it went to sleep.

When it woke up, it was right next to the tunnel hole and peered in.

First there was the cold grey hard wall. Then there was the soft plush carpet. A dark black carpet that held the stains remarkably well. There was dust, naturally, but it only lingered in the corners where the wall met the skirting boards. A long grey line of dust, and fluff that marked a 3d outline of its scenery.

The ceiling was white.

In the corner there was blankets. But many of them were now red. Deep red.

It looked away from the tunnel to the space behind it.

Black. Just black.