" ... Where should I start? The most important part would be sharp, dark grey wall that separates two halfs. The upper part has a lot of yellow siluets. It appers that they are playing, they are holding each others hands. The background is light purple. This colour, in my opinion only has one meaning - jealousy. I don't think that I have to explain any further, but towards what it is directed I cannot say. "

" It was white. " The aged audience interrupted the absorbed boy, his voice full of mixed emotions, unrecongnizable even. If someone was paying more atention he would have heard shaking in the deep, aged voice. 

" The ligh purple used to be white. "

" What makes you think that? "

" Your description is one of a kind. I know you wanted to say that it was once white, but you became bored. In fact, I belive I could compleate the entire painting only with your opening words. "

The boy was flattered. He chuckled and scrached the back of his head in shame. 

" Go ahead, finish it. " The red tomate urged him.

The old mans words were bland, without a spec of boys magic which brouth his words life and soul. Still, those were the words of an analitic critic, with no trace of subjectivity.

" Below the the dark grey wall lies, now with human shape - cream white golem. His body is full of cracks, incorrectly shaped in some places. His colour, under the effects of black, is a lot darker. Dark grey tentacles are stabbing into the cracks, through all of them worm dark green and black. The golems head is hanged downwards, lost in the dark grey forest. "

Those sentences marked the end of the old mans version. Through seven out of ten parts the boy was nodding his head, his left hand below his chin. He turned his head toward the old man who stayed loyal to his original position. He placed his hand on the wide shoulder and opened his lips. What came out was not a cheery voice. but a sound of a wise man which was reserved only for the descriptions of the paintings.

" For the most part you are right. But, you overlooked some things. Seven out of ten, you still have ways to go. "

Intentional silence was leaking from the boys serious face, he stood up elegantly, his arms behind his back.

" Yet, this much only from few words... listen with your soul and perhaps you could reach me. "

" Indeed, you are unparalleled in your craft. "

With a "ho, ho"  the bargger laughed. This childish behaviour was so touching that the old man played along. When was the last time he did this? He could not remember. 

" Ahem, alow me to enlighten you. The little ones head is not bent downwards, in fact its looking upwards left. What is he looking at? Well its non other than the big yellow hand! The palm of the hand is placed on top of the little ones head. Dark blue ribbons are present, but they are no longer leaking. In still intact chest reside two squares, one yellow other orange. "

" Why is it even wasting its time on golem? "

" It is not wasting its time becouse it cares about the little one. And stop caling him a golem! "

" I call it a golem becouse it is a golem "

" NO! Wrong! " He made an X shape with his arms. " A golem is a lump of stones or dirt which was brouth to life by an alchemist. It does not have a soul or emotions, it mechanicly executes orders. The little one has bouth feelings and a soul " 

" Haf, you are only an optimist! "

The old man was stubborn. Why does he refuse to accept that the little one is a living being? Is it becouse he absorbed dark green and black? Who would know. The boy was annoyed, he stared towards the old man with half closed eyes. To all of the the old man didn't even flinch... of course he didn't. The youth sighed in defeat, but his annoyance comes with a heavy price. Yes, there is only one way to take revenge.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

" Thats it! I hereby deem you unworthy of my words! " He said, taking a high and mighty pose " Still, I am merciful and I shall alow you to hear an explanation for one of the painting of my choice. Be greatful peasant! " 

His demenaur was becoming more and more haughty, the old man sighed inside. He played along with the child and now it got to his head, for this situation he can only blame himself. Yet he started this, might as well finish it. With great unwilingness, effortlessly hidden by his bland corporial voice he said the fallowing:

" Indeed, I am unworthy of your grace. I am eternaly greatful for your kindness! " 

Needless to say the boy was pleased, his head raised high with pride, beaming with satisfaction. With movements that of an aristrocrat he gave an order towards the current painting. The space around the painting distorted and semething akin to a black hole appeared. Only a moment was needed to devour the nearby objects; all that remained was an empty space. Soundlessly, cracks started appearing on the expensive tiles. They expanded both in lenghth and in depth. Very soon a ravine appeared, spaning from one side of the white room to the other. The entire process was rather unreal, if someone didn't qitness it with their own two eyes they wouldn't belive it. Of course the old man didn't react. From the bottomless abyss surfaced a new painting with sinister frame. What would have been an imposing scene was ruined once the observer noticed that the hellish frame had a rainbow filter applied to it... fortunatley it faded away soon after. The abyss closed soundlessly and unnaturaly without a trace of its existance. The noble wanna be flashed his medium hair sideways, with a voice somehow even more wiseman-ish - like a saint - he once again started explaining.

" The main focus of this one is, already mentioned hands/arms. The petit arm lies on the floor, its fingers pinted upwards. Its original clours have compleatly vanished, their places have been taken by two new colours. The new primary colour is light gray, representative of death. From the arm flows and spreads on the floor - red - the colour of blood. In the air exist traces of dark green and red which lead to..."

"STOP!" 

The old man yelled.  From the few starting words he already started shaking, when he heard "death" and "blood" fear started to eat his mind away. He already knew where the trail leads to - the trail leads towards the big hand, it leads towards his father. His father killed his mother, he gauged out her heart and cut off her tongue. He placed her heart in her mouth and her tongue where the heart should be. Not only did he kill his wife but other family members. His sister and her husband he killed with a knife, stabbing them in their forehead. After that he impaled their heads with a sharp pole. The police found them hanging from the wall together. Their dauther was killed - his niece - 13 years of age was killed with a hammer hit on her head. Her skull was smashed into a pulp, bones, brain and blood spilled everywhere on the floor. Next he went to his brother in laws house. That man was killed with a throat slit, he died painfuly while choking on his own blood. His eyes were gauged out and blended in the blender. The wife of this man was strangled to death, her lung were pulled out and tossed into the toilet. Their two months old child was spared, tucked in its cradle and lulled to sleep. The police caught him in his home. He was crying a shower of tears while hugging his son Ludvig. He was sentenced to death. His son was brouth to an orphanedge. Ludvig was never adopted, he lived his days surrounded with black, dark gray and dark green - no other colour was present. 

Now as an old man in this white room he was sobbing while holding his head in his arms, his mind fell apart agaes ago. All of that the boy - now a grown man twenty years of age - watched with emty, muddy light gray eyes. He gave off an inhuman presence. An eternety passed for Ludvig to whisper half painful half mad words.

" Why? Why did he do that? Destroyed himself... why.... why... why.... why.............why... why ... "

He started repeating "why" over and over again. The young man simply watched. The room lost its whiteness. Cracks ran through the walls, decorations aged. Dark gray ate away everything and shadows flickered. The ghastly youth emotionlessly watched the helpless Ludvig. His insanety ate at his soul deeper and deeper. Finally, when black tentacles started emerging from the shadows the young man spoke. His voice was cold - a voice of a judge.

" Your father loved you. Contrary to your mother he was not kind to you to save face. He did not secretly despise you. He always tried to make you happy. He did not do it out of a duty of a parent. He blamed himself for your blindness, but he never alowed it to reach you. He loved you unconditionally, but you never took notice. You thought that he was the same as your mother, you thought the he was only doing it as a chore. You accepted his kindness but it never touched your heart. Your father that he failed, he thought he could never make you truly happy. In the netire family he was the only one who loved you with all of his soul and heart. That day he decided to end it all, he decided to erase all those who wronged you. "

Ludvig managed to come back a little. He swiftly turned his head towards the youth. In that moment he could see for the first time in his entire life, yet it did not matter anymore.

" Is it true? You are not lying to me? " his body lost strenght, back and head hanging low " I am to blame... it's my fault... if only I trusted him... "

" It will be fine. He will shurely understand. "

" ...yeah... " That was all Ludvig managed to force out before his body turned into light gray porcelain. The young man softly walked towards the newly formed statue. He placed his open hand against its neck. In that moment the statue shattered, its pieces slowly turned into light and disappeared. Among them the youth - like a dream - vanished in silence.

The life support systems were producing a quiet beeping sound. In split of a second they stopped and started releasing loud noises. Ludvigs heart stopped in the night of Seventh of April. No one lamented his death.