The little boy stared hard at his drawing, for the longest time he ever had. He didn't know which color to use. Should he choose yellow, or should he choose red? For those two colors were his favorites, the ones he liked.
For yellow reminded him of the pretty sunflowers he saw the other day, when Mummy was carrying it and dancing around the living room. It had been a long time since he had seen her smile. Someone gave it to her, she said. The little boy liked yellow, for it reminded him of the smile that had enchanted him. Yellow also reminded him of his Precious, the yellow rubber ducky that had always accompanied him in the bathtub. His favorite duck. Yellow is the most beautiful color he had ever seen.
For red reminded him of fear. Pain, blood and sadness. The patch of red he vividly remembered seeing on his left elbow, the tears he vividly remembered streaming down his face, when he tried to touch the burning hot kettle. “It's hot darling, don’t go near it!”, the nanny told him. But just like all kids, the naughty ones especially, they wouldn't listen. He was curious. Red reminded him of blood too, the red liquid that he saw oozing out of Nan's thumb when he was playing with the scissors and accidentally cut her. Red reminded him of the story of the Little Red Riding Hood, of the little girl who was conned by the Big Bad Wolf. The little boy knew that red was dangerous, but that was what drew him to it.
So which color should he choose? The yellow crayon, or the red? Perhaps yellow was better. Perhaps he didn't like red as much as yellow. Perhaps. But he couldn't make up his mind.
“Nan, which color should I choose?” The little boy asked.
For yellow reminded him of the pretty sunflowers he saw the other day, when Mummy was carrying it and dancing around the living room. It had been a long time since he had seen her smile. Someone gave it to her, she said. The little boy liked yellow, for it reminded him of the smile that had enchanted him. Yellow also reminded him of his Precious, the yellow rubber ducky that had always accompanied him in the bathtub. His favorite duck. Yellow is the most beautiful color he had ever seen.
For red reminded him of fear. Pain, blood and sadness. The patch of red he vividly remembered seeing on his left elbow, the tears he vividly remembered streaming down his face, when he tried to touch the burning hot kettle. “It's hot darling, don’t go near it!”, the nanny told him. But just like all kids, the naughty ones especially, they wouldn't listen. He was curious. Red reminded him of blood too, the red liquid that he saw oozing out of Nan's thumb when he was playing with the scissors and accidentally cut her. Red reminded him of the story of the Little Red Riding Hood, of the little girl who was conned by the Big Bad Wolf. The little boy knew that red was dangerous, but that was what drew him to it.
So which color should he choose? The yellow crayon, or the red? Perhaps yellow was better. Perhaps he didn't like red as much as yellow. Perhaps. But he couldn't make up his mind.
“Nan, which color should I choose?” The little boy asked.
