The Painter of the Sky

42. The Speed of Life (Microfiction/Sci-Fi)

The time traveler, Doctor Evelyn, arrived in the year 1888. She sought out a young inventor named Thomas, known for his obsession with speed.

"Stop trying to build a faster engine," she told him, adjusting her high-tech watch. "The faster we move through space, the slower we move through time. You'll miss everything."

Thomas ignored her. He perfected his engine. Humanity sped up, colonized stars, and forgot how to sit still.

Evelyn returned to her time, where everyone was a blur of hyper-speed. She settled in a quiet meadow, moving at a normal, human pace. The world sped past her, a stream of light and noise, a lonely, rushed existence where a lifetime happened in an instant. She alone had time to watch the sun rise slowly.

43. The Painter of the Sky (Fantasy/Mythology)

In the days before cameras, the world was a dull gray. The sky was the color of unpolished lead, the sun merely a bright, white lightbulb. Color was a myth.

Elara was a painter who used pigments made of crushed stone and berry juice, but they faded quickly. She dreamed of a blue sky.

One night, an ancient spirit of wind and water visited her. "The colors are locked away," the spirit whispered, "protected by the World Warden. You must steal them back."

Elara agreed. She traveled to the edge of the world, a place where gravity pulled sideways. She found the World Warden, a grumpy giant who guarded a massive chest of polished wood.

"I need the colors," Elara demanded.

"No," the Warden boomed. "They are too strong for humans. You will only break them."

Elara didn't fight. Instead, she took her brush and paints and began to paint the Warden's portrait, using only gray and white. She painted his loneliness, his grumpy defense of a colorless world.

The Warden was moved. He had never been painted before. He opened the chest slightly. Inside shimmered the most magnificent blue Elara had ever seen.

"Take just a little," he said.

Elara dipped her large, wide brush into the blue and ran back to her village. She painted the sky with sweeping, joyful strokes. The color spread, electric and vibrant, astonishing the gray world.

She didn't stop there. She went back and took green for the grass, red for the roses, yellow for the sun. The world was transformed into a vibrant masterpiece.

When she finished, the World Warden appeared, looking at the beautiful, slightly chaotic world she had created. He smiled. "It's much better this way, isn't it?"