Plasticine and paint (Short Story)
There was something about playing with plasticine as a child. Taking off their suffocating containers to set free shapes of wonder. Experimenting with its tastelessness as a curious child. Smelling its uninspired scent from the fragrance of blandness. Yet in it are possibilities, straight from the pack are different colours and sizes and powers to create. Between that and those sunny days when the paints come out, there was the intrigue of uninhibited capacity to make your own reality. Plasticine and paint –a timeless iconic duo.
Yet there was one thing that plagued the playful. When two colours merged – the irreversible process of mixing. The bright blue and rosy red now merge as a mesh beyond recognition of their original forms. The initial buzz and rush of mixing the colours now faded, now left with what cannot be undone. The stroke of genius turned into whollops of despair as a ‘just about but not yellow enough’ liquid lifelessly solidifies on the palette. The child head hangs low in its child hands recollecting the prominent colours that once stood before it. All there is now is a confused malleable ball with streaks of its former self next to a paintbrush of culpable stained bristles.
Nostalgic and regretful sighs can be heard at the sin of the creator of such a monstrosity, forcing the colours to fight their original forms half-heartedly and incomplete. Reflecting on this grave error and how curiosity would not get the better of them again – the child painfully tries to put all back in their place and hope they magically restore to their original forms before the next play day. Yet amid the horrendous scenes that take place, there is a silver lining – lessons that can aid the child through the quest to adulthood as they conjure up the courage to create again. Oaths sworn – never again will such havoc be reaped.
….Until mum can be nagged endlessly to submission, and buy some new ones.