Of all the colors in the entire box, little Sam always chose to draw with nothing but the red crayon. No matter what was in his mind, transposing to paper, always red. It was always a deep, thick, bloody red. Today he stands in line with his draft card and a smile on his face. He was shipping out with the army, without a care in the world for what was to come, or what he was leaving behind.
Once on land, he found it hard to enjoy his surroundings. As cynical as it seemed, all Sam wanted was red, everywhere. But now all he gets is a broom tossed at him, signifying that he was needed to sweep. How he hated that broom. Everyday spent lying around, dreaming in one color, receiving one object. Splinters and blisters were as close as he could get to making do with what he had and to mimic the color he craved. One of these days, he knew it would snap; the broom and him together.
He finally had his day. “Sam! Grab your helmet and gun,” cried the captain. He was up in a flash. He headed out with his team, just as the sun was setting, emitting a red glow across their tattered tents. It wasn’t long before they came across a village. There were signs of fresh abandonment and crackling embers in the center of the town. Off to the right was graffiti on a wall, pictures of bombs and familiar flags aflame. The boiling anxiety was reaching the brim. There was just one color in that flag that he would fight for. They continued down the road.
As they neared the outskirts of the town, a low yet audible purr was heard behind a tree. Sam peered around the bark cautiously to find a tiny, white kitten. It wasn’t an angry or threatening sound, but a soft purr of pain. This cat needed food. As all other worries had ceased to grab at Sam, he knelt down to give the cat his few remaining crackers. As if to say thank you, the cat brushed against Sam’s leg and let out a new, affectionate purr before engaging its meal. For the first time ever, Sam saw more than red.
Created: Jul 28, 2010Document Media