"Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS...Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS... Blank Canvas...BLACK
CANVAS..." it chanted in a faint whisper, but it's vandalistic, sick, tone
made its existence recognized.
It was all black, no surface, no boundaries, just black. The pure black seemed to be liquid because of its indubitable thickness, but at the same time silk, because of its marvelous color.
A pure white canvas came through this deep black, almost seeming impossible. The purified canvas had the rough, pleasant texture of the world's finest canvas, it was a perfect square, it was extraordinarily, perfect.
"Life is nothing but a canvas, starting out perfect, pure, and beautiful. As life goes on, the colors emerge on this canvas. Some of these strokes of colors are hideous and dark. Others brilliant and bright, but without either or, the canvas is not complete without one or the other. Each stroke is far from perfect, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This `imperfection` is amazing, it's what makes life a masterpiece." The voice spoke with such charm and mystery. It was soft yet deep. Almost... inhuman.
The voice was now gone, and the disgusting voices from the chant reemerged. "Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS...Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS... Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS..." The canvas started to change...
The pure white dissolved into a thick deep black. It seemed a paint brush was stroking the canvas like mad. Back and forth the sound of the pounding on the canvas was disturbing. It sounded violent, the speed of the paint appearing looked uncaring, and its black strokes were random; but there was no paint brush. Black was rapping the bright white, and the sight was merely horrifying. Soon, the black overcame the purity, and it was dark. Black soon blended with the black background, and the canvas disappeared.
**************************************************************************** ****Please Review!! I'll definitely continue if you would like me to so please give me some insight on your opinions!!
It was all black, no surface, no boundaries, just black. The pure black seemed to be liquid because of its indubitable thickness, but at the same time silk, because of its marvelous color.
A pure white canvas came through this deep black, almost seeming impossible. The purified canvas had the rough, pleasant texture of the world's finest canvas, it was a perfect square, it was extraordinarily, perfect.
"Life is nothing but a canvas, starting out perfect, pure, and beautiful. As life goes on, the colors emerge on this canvas. Some of these strokes of colors are hideous and dark. Others brilliant and bright, but without either or, the canvas is not complete without one or the other. Each stroke is far from perfect, but I wouldn't have it any other way. This `imperfection` is amazing, it's what makes life a masterpiece." The voice spoke with such charm and mystery. It was soft yet deep. Almost... inhuman.
The voice was now gone, and the disgusting voices from the chant reemerged. "Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS...Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS... Blank Canvas...BLACK CANVAS..." The canvas started to change...
The pure white dissolved into a thick deep black. It seemed a paint brush was stroking the canvas like mad. Back and forth the sound of the pounding on the canvas was disturbing. It sounded violent, the speed of the paint appearing looked uncaring, and its black strokes were random; but there was no paint brush. Black was rapping the bright white, and the sight was merely horrifying. Soon, the black overcame the purity, and it was dark. Black soon blended with the black background, and the canvas disappeared.
**************************************************************************** ****Please Review!! I'll definitely continue if you would like me to so please give me some insight on your opinions!!