I Paint The Whole Sky Red Do You Remember That Novels & Stories

A breath slips free of my lips. “Tessa.” She strides toward me. “Are you okay? Did the guards hurt you?” Her palms gently touch my skin and shoulders, checking for wounds. “No. I am good.” My lips answer. “How did you do it?” Jay questions. “The only thing I am good at is making chemicals. The blue paint is a strong chemical mixed with a red one. The water drains the red chemical first, then blue.” “We can clean them in hot water and the original red color will be back.”

About me. Camryn asked me today why the sky is purple instead of blue. I tried to explain about atmospheric corruption and anomaly influence on light refraction, but she just looked at me with those serious gray eyes and said, “But will it ever be blue again?” I didn’t know how to tell her that it might not be, that we’ve damaged this world so badly that even the sky might never heal. So instead I told her that if we worked hard enough, if we were smart enough and brave enough, maybe we could fix it. She smiled and said “okay daddy, I’ll help.” She’s five years old, and she wants to help fix the world. I hope she never loses that. I hope whatever happens to me, she keeps believing that thing

My mind was a blank slate, nothing came to my mind. The purple eyes gave a gentle shimmer as it stretched out its wings slightly, a glimpse of markings on the inner wings. As the small dragon left my hand and landed on my hospital bed, its body scales had a candy paint effect that is used for cars. I thought of my dream car for a split second as I recalled the faint memory. A mustang with Peacock Chromacoat paint job along with black spokes and barrel. I think I was thirteen, it was for a class.

Lai rolls her eyes at this. "Is there anything good about your stepmother?" Lai asks. "You wish." I raise my eyebrows and move out of the bed towards the window. The night sky looks clear with clouds hovering over the dark canvas like white cotton. Reminds me of the days when my dad taught me to use cotton as the clouds because I didn't have white color for the clouds in my drawing. Well,it wasn't a great drawing but my father appreciated every small step I took. "There's always an alternative door to a room. If you don't find it, then make one, Meera" I whisper the words my Dad told me.

Marigolds are yellow and hibiscus is hue, but the sky is blue, pale blue, it is ours, ours, ours. Let it rain mangoes, let it rain like the reddest tomatoes squashed by a grinding stone, then paint the ceilings with that red, paint the sky red; the colour of our love, for it is ours, ours, ours. Tarnished and wooden is this house, Old and rickety, the yard, sodden with black mud that sticks and itches like lice, dark and smelly,

Today was one of those days, I bought it unnecessarily, to forget my mother's hatred. "It's too late now, baby." As this man talked, the beautiful color of the sky was being erased, dyed with the color of death, and his air was becoming polluted. My soul, which I thought was black in color , was determined to turn into thousands of tiny birds and leave me. "You're my fun tonight."

Sky opens the box tainted in red and he was brought back to the time of the kidnapping, to Kole being in the hospital, him caring for Kole, crying and their parents being worried. In this memory, Sky saw a person outside the hospital room dressed in red, staring straight into Kole who was currently lying unconscious. His eyes moved to Sky, smiling eerily. The young teen was astonished, eyes widened in shock. He wanted to go to that person but his feet won't move, and his stomach twists at this revelation. Why was that person in his memory? Again, everything turns black. The last box appears tainted in black and without hesitation, Sky opens it and was stunned by the scene in front of him. Th

The red one was getting bigger covering the sky. June whispered "Benson if this was all a dream then why does it hurt much?"

Percy declared with finality, pointing at the crayon Iris had chosen for the sun. “No, in my world, it’s red,” Iris shot back, her eyes determined. She pressed the red crayon hard against the paper, filling the circle with bold strokes. Percy retorted “The sun has never been red. It’s always been orange. Everybody knows that.” “That’s your opinion” Iris said, expression stubborn. “But in my world, it’s red. People have a right to their own opinions, you know that.” I bit my lip to stop the laugh that almost came up. Percy looked as though someone had just told him that the earth was flat.

Memories rushed back into his mind. He wanted to forget. He prayed that he would forget but he made sure he never forgets, constantly reminding him. ****** And he never forgot that day, the day it had all begun. His journey into misery and pain. It was a sunny day, the sky was blue and the clouds were all brightly visible in the sky, the little boy sat under an almond tree on an old bench behind the house, his eyes looking upward and admiring the movements of the clouds, his innocent mind painting visions with the clouds, he painted his mother taking him to the ice cream parlor, he painted her buying him his favorite flavored cookie butter ice cream. The painting was beautiful, the clouds al