The original prompt: The entire universe is about to end, all the great superheroes are powerless to stop it. The entire universe rests on an 8-year old superhero whose superpower is colour manipulation.
My son had always loved to finger paint. As soon as he found the wonderful, squishy colors, our house became a gallery for his art. His imagination knew no limits, it seemed, and he had found a way to express himself in ways that I was frankly a little jealous of. He had a connection to and through something that I had only truly understood for myself when he was first born. He was only eight, but he had a thirty-year head start on emotional maturity, it seemed.
That said, he was still just a kid. Trying to have a discussion about his art always proved interesting.
"Oh, did you find a new color, Jamie? What is it?!"
"Organge!"
"You mean, orange?"
"Nope!"
You get the idea. He was a character with character, and I couldn't have asked for anything more...
...But more we certainly received. One day, we noticed the lights in our house were emitting purple light instead of white. Hours were spent checking every bulb in the house, calling the electric company, doing research on wiring, what have you. Yet the answer remained in plane sight. Laying on the coffee table was one of Jamie's drawings. It was our living room, but instead of white light...you guessed it.
"So, you're the source of the purple, eh buddy?"
"It's plurple!"
We asked him to draw a 'normal' version of our living room, and sure enough, the lights returned to their normal white hue.
We kept closer attention to his drawings after that, naturally, to make sure he didn't turn our water red or make us look like we were auditioning for the Blue Man Group. There was a fine line between allowing him to explore his mind and breaking reality, but we managed it well enough.
Life continued, until word came that it would soon be ending. The Hero Council announced that the end was nigh. They said they had been aware of a problem with our universe for some time, but were only just announcing it after years of failed attempts at finding a fix. "We've simply no more options. We've all tried everything we know - energy pulses, time dilation, shadow universes - it simply didn't matter. We're so sorry; we just can't turn water into wine."
But what if you could turn it plurple, I thought to myself.
I rang up representatives of the Council, and told them about my son's burgeoning power. I wasn't sure if it even mattered, or if my mind was reading too much into the wording of their announcement. But, we were all going to die, anyway, so why not?
The Council came to meet Jamie, and to see if he could be of some use. One of the representatives gave him a little test. "Jamie, could you paint me? But could you make me pink?"
Jamie's face lit up at the question, as he knew pink was usually kept as a color for special occasions as there had once been an incident with the dog. He eagerly agreed, and began to carefully draw the representative with his painted fingers.
"Prink man!" he shouted upon completion. And sure enough, a large, pink figure now inhabited our living room.
"That'll do," the rest of the Council agreed. They said they weren't positive, but they believed that Jamie held what was left of the universe's supply of hope. "You see, our universe is running out of, well, white. We're not sure how or why it's happening, but stars at the very edge of the universe have already gone out as they can no longer produce white light, for whatever reason. Even attempting to understand the problem has evaded us. And frankly, we had no reason to ever believe we would. Jamie here, if what you've told us is correct, might be able to fix all this, or at least cover it up, in a sense. We just need him to draw the universe."
Astonished, all I could offer them was a joke. "I hope you like plurple."
"We'll take it, if it means we get to exist."
As the Council left our house, Jamie continued to draw away. "Bye prink man!" he said happily. In all the excitement, we had all somehow forgotten that a large hot pink government agent was among us. Jamie quickly fixed it before they did leave the house, but I guess that was simply the nail in the coffin.
My son was going to be a hero.
Over the next few months, Jamie spent most of his days in a government warehouse, finger painting the universe. Star by star he made his way through; purple dots in a black indifferent universe. Until finally, he reached ours. The Earth was bathed in purple, and for now at least, we were saved. Against all odds, and without even really knowing how or why it worked at all, we were going to survive.
Back at our house, Jamie never even seemed to know that he was a hero. And if he did, he didnt care; he was too busy painting. His simple, humble passion had saved all known existence, but now he only cared about getting the right shape on his bananas.
And on our fridge, hung a now old drawing that had proven to be prophetic, of a lamp emitting purple light.
Submitted September 11, 2019 at 02:55AM by psalmoflament https://ift.tt/2ZRgxgI
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