Legacy (Part 2)

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I collected myself, and kicked the covers off my cold skin. I stood up, and I flew down from my bed in a fury I had not realized I possessed. In the enlightenment of pure realization, I saw the truth for what I had to do. I dropped to my knees, and in concentration, I pried up the floorboards that covered my bedroom. It took me a lot of my strength, and my muscles strained to the maximum, but the task was too important to pass off. With a clatter, the floor board sailed across the room, and landed with a quiet thud on the other wall of the room. My blue irises shined upon the objects I had uncovered under my floor. It was something not seen in the city for thousands of years. I had the keys to the future in my possession. Staring back at me from the floor, was the legacy of my entire name. It was what my father, my grandfather, and ancestors before that fought to protect, and keep secret from the white government. They died to protect it. Staring up at my small body, were ten large canisters of red paint, and lying snugly to the side, was a soft, horse hair brush, the size of my head. Shining up from my floorboards, was the key to take back the individuality of the city, the key to stopping the ignorance, the key to true happiness. Staring up at me, and staring down at them, were the keys to life. It was the beginning of a new era.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy, and I knew that I staked everything I ever had, and everything I valued most on the line. In my mind, thoughts raced like chariots. Is staking my life worth the birth, and the dawn of a new life. Was doing this worth it? In the moments as I reached down into the small hole holding the treasures of the world, I thought to myself, Yeah. It is. Life must go on, and reason must be behind the truth of an action. No longer, will ignorance and mindless following be the truth in this city. No longer will white stunt individuality. No longer will this tyranny dwell. I dont care if it takes years for the ignorance to set off, and I dont care if it takes years for the people to realize how stupid they were. This is my destiny. This is my legacy. With one hand, I gripped the brush, and with the other, I lifted the heavy barrel of red paint. The weigth of the barrel, and the size of the brush weighed me down, and pulled me to earth. I am not going to give up, so help me god. I will never give up, no matter the pain. No matter the cost.
How I lugged the heavy barrel, and how I managed to bring the brush out of the house, is not of importance. What is important, is the moment, in which history started again. The moment in which a fake utopia crumbled, and a new one, of color, and truth set up in it's place. What is important, is how I began the defeat of ignorance. That is important.
So I stood there. The light of the full moon over head illuminated the essence of my task. The sea air brushed through my head, and flew around my body like a whirlwind of feeling. I closed my eyes, and allowed my mind, body, spirit, and soul to unite under one cause. I felt the air enter my life, and enter my eyes. I felt a power like never before. A power to change history. I opened my eyes, and lowered the old bristles of the horse hair brush into the blood red mixture of paint. I kept it there for a couple seconds, and allowed the paint to settle on each and every bristle. I withdrew the brush, and in the breeze, I gently settled it on the white wall of my white washed house. I lay it gently over the white, and even before I moved it, I felt my legacy burst to life. I felt a power like I never realized I had before. With a smile, I realized this was the start of a new age. A new legacy, a new life. A tyrant that will be long forgotten. No more white, and only the pureness of individuality. No uniformity, but instead, truth through the eyes of the beholder. No lies. The air flowed through the darkness of the city stronger than ever, and I felt it in me. I felt it move my soul. I felt it move me, like I had never been moved before. Slowly, with a growing smile on my face, I drew the brush across the layered white paint. Red blossomed like a rose, across the white background. Paint dripped, and bled to the ground. I drew one more swipe, than another, and I felt the blood paint flow onto the white. It was the blood of revolution. It was the blood of revolution against white, and all the tyranny it stood for. As I drew another blossoming blood line, I hoped that the people realized such beauty. In my heart, I hoped that the people would lose their ignorance. I sat there, moving only my arm in a fluid motion, becoming one with the paint, and one with the brush. I painted into the dark of the night. I painted the future. I painted life. This is my legacy. Never forget what we can become.





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