Canvas

'Dummy!' Dummy!' Dummy!' My friends screamed and pointed fingers, but this time, it was not because I let the ball pass through and let the other team score. It's because my thumb bent like a straw, instead of bawling my eyes out. I just clicked it back to normal.

'Freak! Edgar is a Dummy!' My friends ran away while the mud on their hands puddled down through the green grassy fields. The tethered leather ball slowly pinched itself near my boots and stopped, and just like that, I am alone.

I went up along the hilltops where the walls of Jericho are perhaps the most fascinating view, the structure itself amuses me. Nor tree or a huge army cannot seem to be able to get in height. Lowly I kicked the tattered ball along the trunks on the sycamore tree.

'Why do I have this? Am I cursed? Or a blessing from God?' I passed my thoughts and kicked the tattered ball again but this time, the dust bristled along with the ball down the hill where I sank beside the tree. To my surprise, a ram horn was plucked underneath the curve-wrinkled roots. Who would anyone? On what effort would they do such a thing?

Touching the curves of the dead beast's remaining remembrance. I never noticed a splinter from the tree that got my thumb throbbing. But nothing, not a tingle on my hand. Darkness clouded my thoughts, from being mistreated by people and being called names, my mind went blank.

'Is this really my life? I've been living like a freak, that I am a cursed kid by the devil himself. A silhouette slowly began to grow along with the soil, towering my head. Curves of the horned dead began to write on my arms, it was growing on me, and still, I felt nothing.

Gripping it tightly and ignoring the dangers of what's to come, I still wrote the insults they threw, all the names they sprung throughout the whole city. Splits and paint untattered as a horrific image grew in my eyes reflecting the gruesome curiosity of my unfeeling skin.

To some, it's just a manner of insanity in which "Normal" people wouldn't understand. But to me, it was freedom.

An art, underlying in my skin all along, I was a canvas.