Red
For the first time in three years the village organized a fair again. No one had to wear masks anymore. The smell of food, the sound of music, and the joy of children playing filled the air.
“Paint my face,” the little ones yelled at the clown behind the colorful stand. They disappeared behind it and emerged a few minutes later transformed into hilariously somber versions of themselves.
Well, not all them were accounted for. Timmy’s mother was desperately calling his name after much asking among the kids.
“Where’s the clown?” someone asked.
He was gone too.
They searched the colorful stand and found nothing. They noticed something peculiar in his color palette. The space for the red color was empty, dried even. Like it had not contained any pigment of that color in a long time.
Timmy’s mother approached little Johnny, who had been proudly displaying a bright clammy red design on his face.
As she sniffed little Johnny’s mask, she fainted. There was definitely a ferrous smell in the boy’s bright red face.
Thanks for your reading
This was my entry to @mariannewest, @felt.buzz, and @latino.romano’s 5-Minute Daily Freewrite: Sunday Prompt: PAINT MY FACE. You can see the details here
Make sure you visit the Freewrite House!!!
