A World Where Colour Was Banned
The sirens rung in Ana's ears as the police chase began on the street by her home. Two police vehicles chased down a truck, hiding illegal barrels of paint within its cargo. Paint and style and anything colourful had been prohibited since the new mayor had come to court, almost 3 years ago. The town of Liechtenburg was now boring without colour, but it didn't matter to Ana, she couldn't see it anyway.
Ana heard only the sounds of speeding and halting of on passing cars and trucks nearby. she knew what was going on, her sister had called her that morning, telling her what had been going on all day, shrieking down the phone with worry. The truck had been hunted down and stopped right in front of her home. all she heard now was the sound of crashing and splashes, she knew the truck had been stopped, a little less gently than it should have. Paint spilled from the barrels and cans and decorated the streets with colour. The authorities were going to have none of it.
Ana listened among the people crowding around the truck, now toppled over with paint spilling from the barrels it carried. The driver, Mr Schwinn was a regular in the town and well known lover of colour, he had been fighting the anti-colour laws since they were first created, he was dragged from his truck by a pair of police men. Ana had never seen Mr Schwinn's face, but she could sense the anger from his voice.
"You cannot do this!" he cried with a weak voice, Mr Schwinn was an old man, not capable of fighting this battle alone. "They need this! What about Art? Science? Emotion? without colour, we know none of it!" he cried once more, Ana could still here him call from the top of his lungs as the police vehicle drove away with him inside.
"Back away, nothing to see here" called another police officer, pushing the crowd back from the pile of colour leaking from the truck. By now, Ana was behind the crowd, well out of the authorities' sight.
She heard a small tap against her cane, the sound of a broken metal bell, she reached down and felt around for where the sound cams from.
A can. small, no bigger than a few inches in size, full of paint.
She had to hide it.
On her way home, Ana couldn't help but feel she was being watched, that the walls had eyes. The small can remained in her pocket, away from any suspected followers. Ana would find it hard to tell what colour the paint was, she had never seen colour before, but she knew it was a beautiful thing. Why would people fight so hard to have it?
She reached her home, a small one story house, grey in walls, ceilings and floors. like any other house on her street, she could tell by the texture that the walls were bare and boring, she was hoping to change that. She wondered into the kitchen, rummaging within the drawers and cupboards.
"Ah!" she laughed, finally finding what it was she was looking for. A small brush, one she had kept from when she was a child, sore memories of her childhood, listening to her mother's paint strokes as she made masterpieces of her daughter sitting by the fire. Ana never saw the paintings, but to feel them might have been just as good.
Ana opened the small can and dipped her little finger into the paint. The paint felt cold and warm at the same time, and Ana felt what could have been grains of crushed shells.
The texture alone seemed to remind of of the beach, the smell of the ocean, sounds of wave crashing against the shore, this colour must have been the calm and cold kind.
Ana instantly started to paint, selecting a small amount of wall in which she could cover with a curtain, just in case visitors decided to make an appearance. Ana felt the wall and added paint to her own hands, creating hand and finger prints along with the brush strokes. she new she was creating art, she didn;'t have to see to know that.
Ana felt as the paint dried, the small grains of shell when collected together on the wall, she knew where had been painted and where had been left bare. she stood back, proud of herself.
She had started something, and she was determined to finish it.