continued from previous
The crayon was getting smaller and smaller as John worked feverishly across the surface of the wall, following his inspiration in real time as it came up with waves, patterns and designs faster than his hand could jot down. All he could do was trust his intuition, as he became a mere messenger, an execution tool for the avalanche of designs and patterns that were pouring out of him. This wasn’t a moment to think or second-guess his inner visions: it was a time to simply bring them out: it was a time for raw, unfiltered inspiration where John was simply a vehicle that the images used in order to manifest themselves. John became a revelation device.
Soon he had entered a trance, fully content with having given up complete sovereignty of his mind, body and ego to the creative force. He surrendered to the feeling of abundance and purpose that inspiration brings, as he literally felt the drawing being born inside of him, then flowing out of his body and onto the wall canvas. He felt at peace with whatever force guided him. He felt purposeful, he felt connected with Everything.
The doorbell rang. He suddenly remembered that he had ordered a salad from the vertical farm. Even an artist needs to eat. He dropped to the floor the tiny stump of the blue crayon that remained in his hand, and headed for the door.
It was Aspen.
“I didn’t know you delivered too!” John said as he opened the door wide for Aspen to come in. She entered the room as if she was looking for something. Walking slowly as far as the middle of the living room, she made a sudden 180 degree turn to face the wall that John had already covered with his drawing. Her eyes were already running a million miles a minute through the peaks, troughs, and grooves of John’s chaotic yet bizarrely ordered drawing. John hadn’t had the chance yet to look back at what he had drawn. Sometimes the shapes were perfectly symmetrical, other times disintegrating and melting into each other before re-forming again. They looked like objects sticking out of the water, some of them floating and bouncing on the surface.
“Erm…you’ve caught me on a somewhat creative day, Aspen. I figured, these aren’t my walls, might as well have some fun with them” – John said.
Aspen put the salads down on the floor and extended her hand out to John, her eyes fixated on the wall at all times.
He walked over as they both looked back on the wall, holding hands. John felt a rush as soon as Aspen touched him. It was similar to the euphoria he had felt earlier while drawing. The room became dark, as the wall began to glow in the familiar now neon blue color. It was all coming from the drawing. The entire drawing was beginning to move, turning into a video being projected on John’s wall. The lines that John had so meticulously drawn vibrated and moved back and forth across the wall, crashing like waves into objects: sometimes engulfing them, as they tumbled chaotically across the water.
“What the fuck is happening?” John said.
“it’s gonna flood again.”
from the upcoming novel A New Earth
to read from the beginning, go here
George is an author, researcher, podcast host, chemist, molecular biologist and food scientist. You can follow him on Twitter @99blackbaloons , listen to his Spotify podcast George reads George, sign up for blog alerts below, or enjoy his books