A Dreamer's Journey

1. A Wish Upon a Canvas

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Scratch, scratch, scratch! The boy's pencil danced on his makeshift canvas. His mousy small head went to and fro, scanning the surroundings with eyes that seemed too big for his face. His small hand orchestrated the pencil's movements with ease, reproducing the images he saw onto the piece of paper.

After moments of drawing and observing, he stopped and sat in silence. He seemed satisfied, as if he had just eaten the best meal in the world.

"Corwin! Cor-"

He turned his head a bit too late but in time to see the soccer ball hurtling towards him. In an attempt to dodge he threw his pencils and paper onto the ground and as he was about to follow, the ball caught him just under the ear, helping him reach the muddy soil quicker than he had expected.

"I tried to warn-" upon seeing the anger in Corwin's eyes the boy started apologizing;

"I didn't mean to kick it your way," he knelt and picked Corwin's paper, handing it back to him once they had both stood up. From a distance a few kids in clothes that closely resembled rags, unlike those that Corwin wore, stood and waited for their comrade to retrieve the ball.

"It's okay." Corwin responded, taking the paper from the boy's hand. It was the first time any of the boys had spoken to him ever since he had picked this spot as his artwork scenery.

The boy picked up his ball and rushed back to join the others. They started playing and Corwin could hear the screams of joy he had been oblivious to just a while before. He picked up his pencils and stuffed them into his denim's pockets, the fine material embracing them in a tight squeeze.

Corwin looked at the piece of paper that he held. He closely examined the drawing...

'A beat up old truck that showed no hint of life stood vertically, held up by other pieces of metal of which most could be recognized as other vehicles that had met their fate. Plastic bags and cans formed a sort of mosaic on the concrete which was hardly visible under all the rubble. In the distance, two sky scrapers threatened to collapse. Birds could be seen carefully perched upon holes that were once windows. Between the two buildings six boys played a game of soccer.'

Corwin looked up and at the actual spot between the buildings. The boys had started to scatter, each finding his way into one of the old buildings until it seemed as if he had imagined the whole scene. He looked back at his paper. Art never lied.

He found a car tyre to sit on and placed the paper upside down on a flat piece of metal. With pencil in hand; he started drawing.

Scratch, scratch, scratch! This time when the pencil danced it danced with a different kind of rhythm. With each stroke the boy heard and felt the air as a breeze passed by, the calling of the birds, the clacking of metal and the crackling of plastic bags as the wind toyed with them. After hours of scratching, erasing and re-drawing, the boy's head propped up and he looked at what he had produced...

'The birds soared high above in the sky, circling the boys down below that played a game of soccer on a field clearer and wider than could have ever been imagined. The field was green with the lushest of grass and netted goal posts had replaced the futile rubbish cans. Two trees, tall as buildings stood where the sky scrapers had once stood and they seemed livelier than ever. Bordering the field were flowers of all colors and sizes producing the most complex yet calming of mosaics.'

Corwin felt tired after producing such a piece of work. He smiled at himself as he slowly walked away from the abandoned town square, leaving his piece of art behind to rest with the other junk. Before he moved on to the main road he took one last look at the place. He felt another soft breeze lift his blonde hair, exposing his wide eyes. The paper was lifted by the wind and carried up into the heavens.

"Thanks." said a voice from behind him.

He quickly turned to face the boy who had hit him with the ball.

"For what?" Corwin asked, surprised.

"For making that wish for us. The more the better right?"

"Yeah... I guess."

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