Ib opened her red eyes. She found herself sitting alone on the floor against a wall that had a large mural-like painting on it. She stood up and looked at the title on it. Fabricated World. She had never seen the first world before, but somehow, that name is what she understood it to be. She suddenly remembered where she was and decided to give the other artworks some attention.
There was a lovely rose sculpture. An odd feeling came from her heart as she gazed upon it. It was a wonderful work of art. She turned to look back into the room she was just in, but, it was gone.
She continued through the gallery and stopped in front of a picture of a handsome looking young man. He was sleeping against a wall, a dark spot on his chest. He wore a tattered long coat, a green tank-top and khaki slacks. His hair almost looked like a wilted rose, it was purple and a handful of strands on the top were darker than the rest of the baby purple hair (1) that hung loosely in his face, his left eye was covered. In his lap sat a blue rose and in his hand he held what looked like a candy wrapper.
A tinge of sadness hit Ib's mind, she didn't know why. She reached into her pocket and felt a metal box inside. She pulled it out and saw in her hand was a silver lighter with a pretty design on it. She tucked it back into her pocket, sure that it would be considered as some sort of 'weapon'.
Her mother came up behind her and called out her name, telling her it was time to go. Ib regrettably left the painting, but not before reading its title.
The Forgotten Portrait
1: That's the way I describe that shade of purple, sue me.
