Canvas

The wind howled against the old walls of the cottage, the canvas coming alive with color, something much different compared to the lack of color around the young boy. People always thought of him to be strange, a freak of nature. He couldn't help it though-what he saw in his head was strange, colorful, excited. Much different from the lives of the people here.

All it was here was wet. Wet and boring. And always so dull, the sky was often a weak grey, sometimes flashing black from the heavy rains, the people here in this small village were even more so. Not in the sense that they were black, but their lives were more of a muted color, only seeing black and white, and they didn't mind it seemed.

Blue...yellow...red...all the colors that his memory could remember enough for him to paint. His hands now coated in a thick colorful mess-making it easy to peel off, he grinned, looking up at the once blank canvas to now see a meadow, in that meadow there was poppy's and daffodils, sunflowers and roses, the grass a vibrant green, flush and shiny after the resent drizzle, bright trees surrounded it, closing it off from the dull world, like a blanket wrapping around them.

Making it a secure and perfect safe haven.

In the middle was the most important beautiful thing though, there stood a pale woman, nothing much, but had meant the world to the small boy. Her brown doe-like eyes staring back at him with deep wisdom despite being so young, one of her arms outstretched welcoming him over, the other one wrapped securely around a small book. Her long curly brunette hair flowed in the soft breeze, which also made her lose sundress flutter.

To most people, she seemed like an ordinary woman, a beautiful one, but ordinary nonetheless. Just what the people in the small village like, no wonder her name meant beauty because she suited the name perfectly.

Although, she was odd, always had a book in her hand, her mind wandering off into the unknown unreal worlds. He thinks that that was one of the reasons his father had loved her so much. She was always something different, odd, and new.

And her name, one to be remembered, was Belle.