The city had grown dark over the years because it had grown bigger. The streets had grown wider and the fences had grown taller but the space behind the fences and inside the houses had grown smaller and smaller. The people had grown larger but the farms had become tiny and the seeds that were planted and sown and grown in the city were only seeds of sadness. Seeds of sadness grew into grey trees of sadness with leaves the shape of tears; these trees drained the very greyness from the lead polluted sky. The farmers of sadness never complained about the greyness they grew because they could not remember a time when anything else was harvested in the city but everyone agreed that so long as everyone stayed the same there would be no trouble. The planting of the seeds of sadness prevailed and the trees continued to shed leaves in the shape of tears.
Not very long ago, a young girl had moved into Grey street which was the name of all the streets in the city but she had moved into the Grey street that was marked on her map as being the Grey street she lived on. Her neighbors in the street wondered about her when she first arrived but they were happy to let her go about her business so long as everything seemed all right and everyone stayed the same. This uneasy peace however was not to last long. Soon rumours started to spread around the city of noises emanating from her house at night. It was said that a sound like laughing could be heard in the evening and even on occasion cheering. Now the farmers of the seeds of sadness had not heard the sound of laughing for such a long time that they had to call a gathering so as to agree to what the sound of laughing would sound like, should they happen to hear it. The meeting went on late into the night but no agreement could be reach as to what the sound of laughing actually sounded like and everyone agreed that the noise coming from her house must actually be a sound of sadness. The committee parted, content with their decision.
That night, the direct neighbour of the new girl on Grey Street kept a close eye on the house in question, waiting for the noise that was agreed to be sadness, to occur. It wasn’t long before he heard it; a great, whooping like noise that had so many different pitches in it, it reminded him of a birdsong that he heard once as a little boy long before the birds had left the city in one great sweeping, soaring, winged carpet in the sky. He was surprised with the way he felt about the sound, he was not scared in fact he was drawn to it. He left his house at number 1 Grey Street - all houses in the city were number 1, because 1 is a sad and lonely number - He carefully crept over to the house next door and towards the source of the great whooping birdsong-like sound that was considered to be a sound of sadness and he found himself knocking lightly on her door. The sound stopped suddenly and the lights were flicked out and the door was opened just a tiny crack so as all he could see were the whites of her eyes looking out at him.
‘Yes?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘What is that noise you are making?’ he queried politely.
‘I’m not making any noise.’ She claimed.
‘Please,’ said he ‘Please tell me what it is.’
The white eyes that filled the crack in the door were silent for a thoughtful moment and then suddenly her hand crept out into the night time and clasped the neighbour by his wrists, pulling him inside her house. The man's jaw fell open as he stood in the doorway drinking in the scene before him. The house was full of warm yellow light and underneath that yellow light there was green plants and red fruits, there were grainy dark woods of furniture and soft pastel blues of cushions. The spectrum of colours before him was endless and his heart felt a funny fluttering sensation that he was not familiar with and would most likely pass off as sadness.
‘Where did this come from?’ he asked her and his mouth started to hurt and contort into some kind of upside down frown.
‘I brought it with me!’ she exclaimed and threw her arms up in the air, seemingly for no purpose at all.
He gasped and pointed ‘It’s on you!’ He pointed furiously at her colourful skin that was not grey like his.
‘It has always been on me.’
‘But you don’t look like that… outside!’ He shuddered and she went over to her coffee table to produce a large grey inked pen.
‘When I go outside, I just colour myself in… see.’ She ran the tip of her pen over her hand to show him how she disguised herself to look like all the others.
He was shocked, then repulsed, then interested and finally excited that such a thing could exist in the city where they had for so long planted the seeds of sadness.
‘Wait!’ She gleefully gasped as she grabbed a bunch of ink pens from a drawer. ‘We can do the same for you.’ And with that, she pulled out the colourful pens and started to colour him in, all different colours for all different places of his body. He watched her work by by their reflection in the mirror. He watched intently as his grey person was transformed by her artwork and when he was finished he stood admiring his beauty in the otherworldly reflection of the glass. He knew the pain he felt in his heart was sadness but it was a strange feeling of sadness; a sweet sadness that he had not felt before. He knew that he never wanted her to use the grey pen again.
‘Where does this come from?’ He asked again. ‘It comes from my heart!’ She explained, ‘And it comes from my yard. I have been planting seeds of happiness in my garden and this is my first harvest. I plan to share it with all of the city!’ she squealed, overjoyed. He shook his head lightly from side to side. ‘They will not like this, everyone must stay the same otherwise there will be trouble!’ The girl just smiled at him, the pink glow from her cheeks painting the air around her. ‘Everyone will still all be the same when we’re done, only they will all be happy instead of sad and loved instead of lonely.’
Outside in the darkened air of Grey Street, people had started to gather. They gathered outside the little house into which the girl had moved and planted her seeds of happiness. The people gathered outside were restless and there was much gasping and whispering in the crowd as it grew larger and larger. The people had been drawn by the strange sounds and then by the strange light and then by the strange feeling.
‘Her house is leaking something!’ one man cried and pointed to the siding of the little house where is seems it had parted slightly at the seams and from which a long streak of green light was flowing. At the opposite side of the house, another crack had formed, from which a purple glow was gushing. ‘What’s going on?’ An old lady demanded of the farmers of the seeds of sadness who had also gathered with the crowd.
They had no answer but they were sure that this was not like everything else around them and that it could only mean trouble. Suddenly a great beam of red light lashed out from the house and like a great tongue of a dog, licked the farmer and turned him red. The crowd gasped and cried and screamed for they were afraid of what was to come. Another beam, this one orange spewed forth and covered a section of the crowd with its illuminating hue. And more colours spilled forward, over and over again as all the seeds of happiness that the girl had planted split opened and bloomed and did not stop until the entire crowd was consumed by a rainbow.
Inside, the girl and her neighbour held each other close. His heart beat with that sweet sadness and his mouth ached with the upside frown. They were oblivious to the crowd that had formed outside until they suddenly heard a great noise intruding.
‘What is that sound?’ He trembled, ’It sounds just like your sadness!’ She took him by the hand and led him to the door and when they looked outside, they saw the entire population of Grey Street causing a commotion outside her house. ‘That’s not sadness,’ She whispered, ‘but freedom.’
Not very long ago, a young girl had moved into Grey street which was the name of all the streets in the city but she had moved into the Grey street that was marked on her map as being the Grey street she lived on. Her neighbors in the street wondered about her when she first arrived but they were happy to let her go about her business so long as everything seemed all right and everyone stayed the same. This uneasy peace however was not to last long. Soon rumours started to spread around the city of noises emanating from her house at night. It was said that a sound like laughing could be heard in the evening and even on occasion cheering. Now the farmers of the seeds of sadness had not heard the sound of laughing for such a long time that they had to call a gathering so as to agree to what the sound of laughing would sound like, should they happen to hear it. The meeting went on late into the night but no agreement could be reach as to what the sound of laughing actually sounded like and everyone agreed that the noise coming from her house must actually be a sound of sadness. The committee parted, content with their decision.
That night, the direct neighbour of the new girl on Grey Street kept a close eye on the house in question, waiting for the noise that was agreed to be sadness, to occur. It wasn’t long before he heard it; a great, whooping like noise that had so many different pitches in it, it reminded him of a birdsong that he heard once as a little boy long before the birds had left the city in one great sweeping, soaring, winged carpet in the sky. He was surprised with the way he felt about the sound, he was not scared in fact he was drawn to it. He left his house at number 1 Grey Street - all houses in the city were number 1, because 1 is a sad and lonely number - He carefully crept over to the house next door and towards the source of the great whooping birdsong-like sound that was considered to be a sound of sadness and he found himself knocking lightly on her door. The sound stopped suddenly and the lights were flicked out and the door was opened just a tiny crack so as all he could see were the whites of her eyes looking out at him.
‘Yes?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘What is that noise you are making?’ he queried politely.
‘I’m not making any noise.’ She claimed.
‘Please,’ said he ‘Please tell me what it is.’
The white eyes that filled the crack in the door were silent for a thoughtful moment and then suddenly her hand crept out into the night time and clasped the neighbour by his wrists, pulling him inside her house. The man's jaw fell open as he stood in the doorway drinking in the scene before him. The house was full of warm yellow light and underneath that yellow light there was green plants and red fruits, there were grainy dark woods of furniture and soft pastel blues of cushions. The spectrum of colours before him was endless and his heart felt a funny fluttering sensation that he was not familiar with and would most likely pass off as sadness.
‘Where did this come from?’ he asked her and his mouth started to hurt and contort into some kind of upside down frown.
‘I brought it with me!’ she exclaimed and threw her arms up in the air, seemingly for no purpose at all.
He gasped and pointed ‘It’s on you!’ He pointed furiously at her colourful skin that was not grey like his.
‘It has always been on me.’
‘But you don’t look like that… outside!’ He shuddered and she went over to her coffee table to produce a large grey inked pen.
‘When I go outside, I just colour myself in… see.’ She ran the tip of her pen over her hand to show him how she disguised herself to look like all the others.
He was shocked, then repulsed, then interested and finally excited that such a thing could exist in the city where they had for so long planted the seeds of sadness.
‘Wait!’ She gleefully gasped as she grabbed a bunch of ink pens from a drawer. ‘We can do the same for you.’ And with that, she pulled out the colourful pens and started to colour him in, all different colours for all different places of his body. He watched her work by by their reflection in the mirror. He watched intently as his grey person was transformed by her artwork and when he was finished he stood admiring his beauty in the otherworldly reflection of the glass. He knew the pain he felt in his heart was sadness but it was a strange feeling of sadness; a sweet sadness that he had not felt before. He knew that he never wanted her to use the grey pen again.
‘Where does this come from?’ He asked again. ‘It comes from my heart!’ She explained, ‘And it comes from my yard. I have been planting seeds of happiness in my garden and this is my first harvest. I plan to share it with all of the city!’ she squealed, overjoyed. He shook his head lightly from side to side. ‘They will not like this, everyone must stay the same otherwise there will be trouble!’ The girl just smiled at him, the pink glow from her cheeks painting the air around her. ‘Everyone will still all be the same when we’re done, only they will all be happy instead of sad and loved instead of lonely.’
Outside in the darkened air of Grey Street, people had started to gather. They gathered outside the little house into which the girl had moved and planted her seeds of happiness. The people gathered outside were restless and there was much gasping and whispering in the crowd as it grew larger and larger. The people had been drawn by the strange sounds and then by the strange light and then by the strange feeling.
‘Her house is leaking something!’ one man cried and pointed to the siding of the little house where is seems it had parted slightly at the seams and from which a long streak of green light was flowing. At the opposite side of the house, another crack had formed, from which a purple glow was gushing. ‘What’s going on?’ An old lady demanded of the farmers of the seeds of sadness who had also gathered with the crowd.
They had no answer but they were sure that this was not like everything else around them and that it could only mean trouble. Suddenly a great beam of red light lashed out from the house and like a great tongue of a dog, licked the farmer and turned him red. The crowd gasped and cried and screamed for they were afraid of what was to come. Another beam, this one orange spewed forth and covered a section of the crowd with its illuminating hue. And more colours spilled forward, over and over again as all the seeds of happiness that the girl had planted split opened and bloomed and did not stop until the entire crowd was consumed by a rainbow.
Inside, the girl and her neighbour held each other close. His heart beat with that sweet sadness and his mouth ached with the upside frown. They were oblivious to the crowd that had formed outside until they suddenly heard a great noise intruding.
‘What is that sound?’ He trembled, ’It sounds just like your sadness!’ She took him by the hand and led him to the door and when they looked outside, they saw the entire population of Grey Street causing a commotion outside her house. ‘That’s not sadness,’ She whispered, ‘but freedom.’