Fixated Impulse Malady of Hues
It is the small widow at the top of the
wall that begins my journey every evening.
The wall always look the same. A painting
muddled in the taupe wall color on which it hangs. It is the wrong wall. It
doesn’t belong there and it protest. I
stare at it in the evening.
Sitting in my creaky
steel chair my feet resting comfortably on the edge of the bed. I lift my arms and pull the stiff
muscles. Met with mild resistance, I decided
to stand, if for no other reason but to establish sovereignty over of my body.
I bend slowly at the waist and demand that my muscles obey. I touch my toes. Lifting myself again and repeating the
process. The light is dancing down the wall. My eyes follow it. As I come to a defiant mountain pose, my heart
flutters. The light has almost found my nemesis. It creeps along slowly until they meet.
The clock clicks as the
numbers fall. One minute later they met today.
The light and the one spot on this painting and its unique fleck. I wish
I could give the color a name. It is
trapped somewhere between Emerald and as best I can describe it,
malachite. This speck is unique, it was
placed there by the artist I am sure to drive me mad. No other hue like it on the canvas. No other type in all this world have I seen
that matches its mocking stare. I try to
not look, I force my eyes to turn away.
Yet somehow they seek it out, my sovereignty is being challenged. I search for distraction, but there is
none.
I turn to the comfort of my bed.
I use the term “comfort” loosely. It too squeaks and protest my weight. The mammoth stone that resides within its
coils forces me to lay my head where my feet would rest, and my feet where my
head belongs. It requires me to see that
damned fleck. I pull the blanket over my
head and feel the scratch of the course fibers on my face. I whisper “Don’t look, keep your head about
you girl.”
Suffocating. I can’t
breathe the carbon dioxide molecules are too thick. My arms throw the gray blanket from my
face. I turn on my side. I cannot look. I know it wants to take my sanity. That indescribable fleck. “I can’t give you a
name.” I shout. Your color is known only to God. When I am released from this room I will run
far and fast from that damned flake of paint.
I examine again, no it is only in that one place. The canvas is surely a foot in length and I
suppose an arm’s length in height. I
have searched every Planck length and that color, it is only there, in that
fleck. I wonder what I have done to
deserve this fleck. It pecks at my
heart. It reminds me of my failure. Just name the color. The books have hundreds of names of colors,
pick one. When I first came to this room
I would settle on calling it Emerald, then Sea Green and so many more. Then in
the wee hours the fleck would seek me out. I knew I must find its name. I am trapped in this hell until I find the designation.
I can’t seek the creator out and find my
reprieve. I know not his name.
I have sought to leave this place. I have stood, turned off the light, then on
then off and found that it does no good.
I can’t walk through the threshold.
Funny, threshold, it holds me. I
cannot leave. If I do surely death awaits me.
All because that painting on its bland taupe wall. If only that fleck did not glare, and demand
I name it.
People come and in an attempt and settle my turmoil tell me it’s
simply green. If only it were that
easy. This speck is not just green,
emerald, sea, kelly, hunter, pine or any of her sisters. It is unique.
It is like you, and me. There is
only one speck like it in all the world.
I cannot name it. I cannot define it. I cannot say its name.
The burning in my eyes makes me drowsy, but I know sleep will
elude me. Always beckoning me to find
its name. Nowhere can it be found if
only the maker would whisper in my ear the cursed name of this thing that holds
me so tightly oft I cannot breathe.
My bed squeaks again and I turn, the light has left the speck darkening
its hue. Leaving me to my task. If only I could find its maker. If only I could be released from that which
hold me. I wonder if I found him would I
finally be free?
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