I felt lonely among all the colorful crayons. Red, blue, purple—you name it—they were all happy. July used them more. She rarely used my magic. Because no one wants blackness in their teas. She painted tea cups on the canvas filled with different fusions of tea. Her customers could feel the tea cups and interact with the painting as the painting were alive. They manifested in the real world. It was something amazing, and extraordinary. Changes by the customers were possible as well. If they wanted, they could change the color combinations and create something different. The sky was their limit.
Making tea cups was July's specialty, and when she found out that we were magical and could add magical energy to the things painted on the canvas, she was excited to sell her creations for more money.
Her grandmother was a famous painter, and she bought us from a witch called Adeline, who was a famous for her sentient creations. Adeline used a special technique to create us. It was a secret only a few knew about. The best moment of my life was that moment when I gained consciousness. It's been a long time since my creation, and not being used has made me depressed.
I didn't know what to do with my depression. So, I decided to force myself to paint and add my color to July's painting. One night, I moved myself from the crayon box and jumped to the canvas she was working on. I transferred my essence to the painting of the herbal fusion, which was full of different colors.
When July woke up and saw her painting, she got upset and angry because that painting was due tomorrow, and it was almost finished. I was happy about my work. I didn't destroy the painting; I just wanted to be seen and heard. Is that too much to ask? I mean, I have magic inside me, just like the rest of the colors. Why does no one want to explore my capabilities? Why does no one want to see who I am?
July came closer to the crayon box. She knew what I did. She picked me up and said, "You little ..., I don't want your essence in my teas!" and then broke me in half and threw me out of the window. I landed on the street. And cars smashed me, but I had a healing mechanism set in me by that witch who created me. So, my being which was smashed into tiny little parts attracted each other like a magnet. And in no time I was myself again. No one could destroy me. With much effort, I moved to the sidewalk. I was so tired that I fell into a deep sleep.
When I woke up, I was somewhere else, no longer on the sidewalk. Someone must have picked me up and moved me to this house. It was a nice house. It had a modern design. I liked the minimalistic touches. I hoped my new owner would appreciate my talents and use me. I waited for hours, and finally, she came to pick me up. I felt a cozy feeling when I was in her hands. She had beautiful energy and made me feel less depressed.
She was a painter, and her name was Julia. I was surprised to see her paintings. They were all in black and white. I was overexcited to see all those black-and-white paintings. She painted people who looked depressed. There was meaning in their eyes, something I didn't fully understand. "I found my home finally; I'll be useful here!" I said to myself.
I didn't know why I remembered this saying: "Someone's garbage is another one's treasure". Maybe it was because July ignored me and never used me. And now I find Julia, who is a black-and-white painter. I couldn't wait for her to use me on the canvas, and I promised myself to show her how magical I could be.
It was one cold afternoon in the fall that she used me on the canvas. She painted a little girl who lost her doll and was crying. Her doll was just under her bed. This made me sad. I didn't want that girl to cry, but Julia was excellent at painting sadness, and that was why she used me. I did not want to be used for sadness. This contributed to my depression, and I didn't want that.
I thought hard, and I tried to be smart about it—what is it that I want? What I want to be used for is not to portray sadness. Am I even capable of showing joy and happiness? This thought made me angry at myself because, after so many years of not being used, someone used me to show the sadness of a little girl. Maybe her next project would be more to my liking. I decided to wait it out and see what happens next and what she decides to paint after the sad little girl.
After a while of using me on the canvas, Julia realized that I didn't finish. I regenerated myself at night. All the colors in the box did. Julia was shocked. When July found out we were magical, her reaction was joy because she could make a lot of money with her creations. Unlike July, Julia didn't show anyone those creations in which she used me after she found out I was not a normal crayon. And it made me wonder what was going on in her mind. Why didn't she show her creations to buyers or enthusiasts?
Now that I think about July, I think I miss the other colors. Yellow was very proud; I didn't talk to her much. Red was so passionate that it made me excited about being a conscious being. We had our little conversations at night when we were regenerating. All of us desired to bring some sort of satisfaction to the one who used our essence.
At some point, Julia stopped painting sadness, and she moved to something I was always afraid of being used for: Horror. I think her motivation was monetary. She wanted more money and prestige. She painted from her imagination and painted leech-like beings who were dark and had sharp white teeth and big red eyes. Likewise, she then sold her creations to high-profile clients. Not only that, but she discovered that whatever she paints with me becomes alive and can be seen if one's third eye is activated.
The more she painted those creatures using me, the more dark essence I produced, and it made me feel important and useful. I was shocked that I gave life to those beings. My depression was slowly fading, and something else replaced it. I wanted not to feel anything, and that's what happened. I suppressed my emotions. Those creatures were used to bring destruction in magical wars between humans.
Julia made a lot of those beings and sold them at high prices to warlocks and witches. I thought hard about a solution to prevent her from making more of those beings, but nothing came to my mind.
One night, Julia couldn't sleep, and she came to her studio to paint. She picked me up and painted her nightmare, which was her burning in a building. "I'm not going to burn in hell," she shouted. She burned the painting because she didn't want that to manifest. Why create it in the first place? I didn't have an answer to that. Maybe she wanted to blow off steam or send a message to the universe.
Then, she called her friend, Adam.
"One of the witches wants to attack me because I refuse to sell her more leeches; I don't want my soul to burn in hell! Please think of something!" Julia said. She was afraid of that witch, and she was trembling with fear as she was talking to Adam, who was Julia's ex-boyfriend. They stayed connected after they broke up with each other.
"I told you not to create such stuff. You insisted, and look where it got you! You asked for it!" Adam said.
"Now what do I do? Just tell me what to do!" Julia said. She couldn't stand still and moved across the studio, stressing.
"I think you should get rid of that black crayon. Maybe if you destroy it, all the creations you made with it will be destroyed as well!" Adam said.
A shiver ran through me. This was a horrible idea. If I were to be honest, I doubted Adeline's capabilities for a moment as a witch who created me. I was made in such a way that I could regenerate myself. I had to get out of there before they thought of a way to destroy me!
But before I could move, Julia picked me up and broke me into two halves. And she buried one half in her garden and the other half in a cemetery. I felt incomplete. Like my soul was ripped apart from me.
She didn't know burning the creation didn't make it go away. That fateful fire occurred, and with it, Julia burned. She brought this on herself. She shouldn't have painted what she didn't want to manifest. I witnessed all this. I regenerated my other half, and my other half regenerated me. I am still hopeful someone will find me and my other half, so we can create joy and happiness, not sadness and horror.
This turned out to be a deep story about longing and creativity. It's magical that you made me feel a connection with the protagonist, who was a crayon.
Amazing tale!
I just imagined myself to be crayon and just wrote what came to my mind.
Thanks for reading and commenting 😀💕
What an original, clever and interesting story, @alienstoryteller! The black crayon's character is nicely developed over the course of the story. The conflict is clear — that he wants to be useful, but not in ways that support sadness or the ills of the world. And in the end, there is a sense of hope that a new owner will use his gifts in a positive way. The re-generating theme is inspired!
Thank you for joining the crayon box prompt, and for reading and commenting on the work of other community members.
It was so fun to write this story. 😀
The ending surprised me. But I think it turned out pretty good.
Thanks for reading and commenting 💕
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STOPJuli discovered that pencils were magic. Have a nice evening