Spectrum [406 words]
He was an artist who observed life through a prism, the bright lights of existence broken into a spectrum of simple colours. He would try to isolate the separate beams so that he might better understand them. To him, other people were lights in a dark world. They shone brightly without colour. But within each person was a maelstrom of swirling reds and greens and yellows and browns.
Some patience was needed to wash, separate and dry the components ready for use. It was always worth the effort.
Red from blood, orange from the bladder. Yellow from intestines, green from the juices of the stomach. Indigo, sliced lungs. Violet veins. Sometimes long hair could be used for fiery reds or sunshine golds.
Blue was the problem colour. Only blue eyed people yielded the complete spectrum, required to paint the most vivid of human rainbows on the walls of his studio. There was a serious problem with supply of blue. Eyes were small compared to, say, intestines, and could not be stretched or powdered. So he often required twelve or so pairs of blue eyes, strung together by their optic nerves, for every individual painting.
There was a lot of waste involved. And a lot of travel.
At first it was hard to obtain his materials but then after a couple of years the internet made everything easier. Eventually he developed a system to analyse dating websites, to break down membersí photographs into their component colours and pick out the most suitable matches for his rainbows.
After fully automating the program it would run all by itself. The living lights would randomly arrive on his doorstep, alone and ready to be split apart. But in the ecstasy of his artistic frenzy, he had failed to think through the technical requirements. He did not account for the non physical aspects; notably the occupations of the participants.
Some months after automation had begun, when an off duty divorcee police officer turned up ready for her colour separation, what followed was a brief struggle which ended in a terrible monochrome nightmare that would last a lifetime.
He is an artist who observes life through his prison. In a timeless grey existence he dreams every night of rainbows. In the daylight hours he stares at the many grey walls, planning his final masterpiece. He imagines himself painting it with broad stripes of vivid colour, using the fragmented spectrum of her palette.
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