This is a short story I wrote earlier today. It was written as a submission for a competition hosted by a small online community I’m a part of. I tried to be artistic, but honestly, I’m not much of a story writer. Nonetheless, I’m rather proud of this piece. Enjoy.
The Painted World
The Lonely Boy sat in the usual red chair, in the usual dark corner. He stared wistfully at the usual dreary wall. His mind raced, as it usually did, with the horrors and the pain of his usual day to day life. His perpetual misery tore away into his cold, empty soul. The relentless agony tortured him mercilessly. The insurmountable lonliness consumed him, and the usual grey world forced him into darkness.
The Lonely Boy caressed the arms of his chair, took a deep breath and gently closed his tired eyes. He turned his back on the misery, and with each breath he drew, he took one step away from it all. With each breath the relentless screaming faded further away, and salvation began to take its place.
With one final deep breath, The Lonely Boy left behind the usual misery of the grey world. All the familiar faces had now disappeared. He had entered his own private paradise; his escape from the darkness, his own painted world. Here, nothing hurt him. Here, everything was bright and beautiful. Here, the lonliness meant nothing. His painted world was populated by only the perfect people, and they all loved him unconditionally.
In the painted world, The Lonely Boy often wondered why he ever left. The reason was simple to anyone on the outside looking in; he left to survive, because the painted world wasn’t real. But it was to The Lonely Boy. To him, it was more real than the grey world. There, the horrors of his past haunted him mercilessly. Here, he forgot what pain was entirely.
Usually, The Lonely Boy would wake up now for sustenance. He would leave his usual corner, consume the usual gruel his parents forced him to deal with, then suffer the usual torture they made him face. Then he would leave for school, where he would usually be tortured and victimised for the whole day. After that it was back to the usual house, the usual horrors, then the usual chair in the usual corner.
But this time was different. Why leave? If he left the perfect painted world, what good would come? Things wouldn’t change. They never did. No; the only solution would be to stay in his perfect painted world forever. Here, he was safe, for all eternity.