Task 6 – Novak

The pink and gold colors covered the sky in the dream embrace of morning as Alex found himself exploring the halls of a dream that kept coming back to him, a place where his imagination was unlimited. His hands created beautiful landscapes and fantastical animals; they reminded me like dancing brushes. His younger self was clearly shown in the rising scenarios, as he enjoyed the simple joy of creating. However, this dream took an unexpected turn, as dreams sometimes do. Memories of a haunting past rushed forward, the innocence of creation giving way to a catastrophic incident that had affected Crtrinstrant. Once harmless childhood paintings had come to life, bringing the community dangerously close to destruction. Buildings collapsed, the village’s survival in jeopardy, and the dream became a bizarre nightmare. With a shock, beads of sweat getting to his forehead, Alex let out his breath. The morning sunshine streaming through his bedroom window was a sharp contrast to the weight of shame that lay over him. His eyes rubbed, he glanced in the direction of the ancient shed. His painting set was there, untouched for ten years. 

Even though ten years had passed since that awful day, the sounds of disaster kept echoing in the back of his head. The residents of Crtinstrant worked together to ensure its survival. Still, the communal memory of the town carried the wounds of mistrust and terror. What had previously been a much-loved skill was now a cause for fear and concern. Alex was spared the worst of the villagers’ hatred because the main people from the village decided to protect him. They understood the true value of his skill in defending the town, but this defense just made him feel more alone. As a result of their parents’ warnings, children avoided him, continuing the feeling of being excluded. His special talent led him to become an outsider in the village. He now saw his amazing ability as a curse, and his desire for normality collided with that weight. He was surrounded by an area of security, but the wounds from being alone were serious. The hesitant acceptance by the people did little to reduce the weight of his remarkable gift. Even with the full weight of hatred kept at a distance, Alex found comfort in the company of a couple people that became really close friends to him despite all of the events that had happened in the past . The  village, in spite of its survival, found it difficult to deal with its dependence on a skill that had previously caused misfortune. His paintings, which had previously inspired admiration, were now burdened by social trauma. The shadow of disaster ruined the colorful strokes that gave life to his sculptures. The child’s once-blissful face now carried the scar of caution, his laughter muted by the memory of that terrible day. The divide that remained between him and the village troubled Alex even in his protective place. Though well-meaning, the blanket of protection unintentionally reinforced his sense of isolation. In a sea of suspicious looks, the main people who stood up for him were like islands. The cautions from their parents prevented the kids from making the connections that would have closed the gap. Alex was an artist who was alone in the busy center of Crtinstrant, his gift became cursed. ​​His want for normality, which had only been a whisper before, was now echoing deeply within him. The village, which was caught up in the very foundation of its survival, found it difficult to understand all aspects of acceptance. Alex was fighting an internal struggle between his need for connection and the burden of a skill that had permanently changed his life’s path, even as the threat from outside forces approached.

Days passed in the village under the shadow of a threatening enemy group. Their secret objective was to gather power from other villages, believing (mistakenly) that combining these capabilities would put a stop to endless battles. They had no idea that this kind of concentration of power might result in unknown levels of destruction. The sensitive balance, maintained for generations by the distribution of authority among the villages, was in danger. 

The critical moment emerged among noises of anger when threatening monsters arrived. Previously skilled in avoiding such dangers, Crtrinstrant was now confronted with an unmatched attack. As villagers looked for safety, fear overcame them, exposing their vulnerability. In the middle of the chaos, Alex went for his long-neglected painting equipment out of an unexpected act of resolve and a deeply rooted protective instinct. He started to create with shaky hands, not just to face his anxiety but also to rescue the town he had so desperately wanted to be a part of. His paintings came to life acting as protectors rather than as instruments of destruction, which is evidence of the incredible potential he had unrealized. The villagers’ earlier doubtful look now showed a renewed enthusiasm. The sidewalks reverberated with thankfulness, and Alex couldn’t help but be amazed at the power that had been long misunderstood. The fear’s roots, buried in Crtrinstrant’s soil, started to decrease their hold. Alex felt the weight of being alone lift with each brushstroke. The kids, who had been skeptical at first, now looked up in wonder at the artist who had saved their village. A sense of belonging that had escaped him for a long time was revealed as the barrier that had held him apart started to come down. The town saw the transformation of a once-feared talent into an example of hope, and the whispers of fear turned into whispers of admiration.