fbpx

Crying Boy

727
0

I was born color blinded. To be precise, it is the total color blindness. That is, I see the world only in black and whites. It is bizarre to imagine that there are colors other than black and white. It’s like imagining something different than day and night. I was an orphan, and a church father raised me. He was the one who found my color blindness. He once asked me, ‘Which shirt looks good? Blue or red?’. I said, ‘They both are same.’ I then came to know that I am among the 0.00003% of the entire world’s population to have total color blindness. I felt like I am the chosen one. But it’s precisely the opposite.
I was adopted by a wealthy couple a year ago when I was 14 years old. It took me some time to get used to that lavish mansion. They say the furniture and paintings everything match with a specific color pattern, which makes it a beauty. But, it is all just black and white for me the same as our orphanage. They say that we are now eating in gold-coated plates. But, they look the same as our steel plates for me, and they also serve the same purpose. I couldn’t understand why it makes someone rich.
One day they bought a painting for ten lakhs. It is a painting of a crying boy which was previously owned by an other rich man. Under mysterious circumstance his entire house burned in fire. Everything was burned down to ashes including people inside. But somehow this painting didn’t even catch a pinch of ash. They say that it has the most vibrant contrast of color pallets and patterns. All I can see in it is a boy crying. It was mounted to the wall in our hall. I found something different about the painting or the boy, I was not sure, but something is connecting me to it. I always wonder why the boy is crying and how someone can let him cry and suffer to get the painting right. It was never like a painting for me. I felt it like a window to another house, and I can almost hear the boy crying. After a few days, I noticed something uneven. The boy eyes seem to be narrowed, and lips widened. I felt like the boy was crying more intensely than before. I asked my parents about the change in the painting. They said they couldn’t find any difference. I thought it could be a delusion as I was thinking more about the boy lately, yet I could feel the change.
A few days later, when I was back from school, I was stunned, looking at the painting. The boy is now crying like hell. His eyes almost closed, and tears were dropping all along his face. I yelled at my mother about how the painting is changing. She said she couldn’t notice any difference at all. That blew me off. After dinner, I sat right in front of the painting. Now I am very much sure that the boy is somehow crying more than before. I don’t know whether colors are also changing or not. They seem the same to me, black and white.
Most important is why others couldn’t notice any difference. Suddenly, I saw the boy moving inside the painting, giving a shiver in my spine. I couldn’t run or yell because I was as much curious as frightened. The movement became more subtle. He is now crying as if it is a television. I was sweating and could feel my hands and feet shaking. Now, the sounds of crying are more real than I used to hear. I feel like the boy in the next room is crying and suddenly heard a yell from my mother. I rushed to her room to see the fire in her room. The fire was spreading quickly. Within no time, it covered the entire room. I could see the glorious white flames running through the roof and walls. My mother and I rushed downstairs to get out of the house. When we came downstairs, most of the walls and ceiling are on fire. We rushed to get out and finally threw ourselves out of the house. Then, I realized that our dog Rex is still inside. Without a second thought, I rushed through the blazing white fire to get him. Luckily he was safe under his bed. I got a good hold of him and was trying to find a way out through an entire mansion burning and tearing itself apart.
Through the burning doors and obstacles, we reached our hall. There I noticed something. Something unreal and never happened before. The painting is shining with multiple colors other than black and white, surrounded by a flaming white fire. That is the first time in my life when I saw colors other than black and white. I am short of words to describe how it is. It is just beautiful. Among the screaming and yelling from people outside and the burning fire and crying boy, I saw the beauty in those colors. I am now not terrified about why the boy is moving, but those colors are just beautiful to watch. Suddenly the boy stopped crying. He opened his eyes and looked right into mine. I startled and fell back. Rex went running towards the door. The boy is still looking at me, and he started crying again. This time he froze. He is now the same as I saw him the first time. I was by then covered by smoke and suffocated. I couldn’t catch my breath and fell unconscious.
When I woke up, I was in a large room. I am sure it is not a hospital and thought of it as our new house. The painting is right across my face hanging to the wall. Now, like the rest of the world, it is in black and white. I asked one of our servants about it. He said, ‘It is the only one left after the burning of our house, and surprisingly it didn’t even catch a pinch of ash.’ My church father came to see me and inquired about my health and the incident. I couldn’t tell him about the painting. Even, I would think the person as mad if anyone tells me about the things I experienced, if those didn’t happened to me. He told me to take care and started to leave. Then, he saw the painting and stood there, watching it closely. He then turned towards me and asked, ‘How did they painted your childhood picture so perfectly?’


Read Other Stories

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *