Agony

It was one of the brightestnights in his life and he lay on his green grass-bed blinking unblinking at the starry starry night-sky ceiling shimmering sleepily above him, like divine rosy cheeks of a white virgin goddess. He bid the world the softest of sighs, and closed his crescent-moon eyes. Inside, a massive pulsating void vast as the ocean and scarlet as the fiercest of fires engulfed his torso as he melted into a gleaming green stretch of deep-seated joy that was his happy little room. His jingling, shrieking box of kaleidoscopes. His dancing, singing, jingling, shrieking box of kaleidoscopes. His secret, silent trap-door. And yet if all was well and the world was shiny, then why, oh why so glum?

Poor child, he was colourblind. He was deaf. And he was alone, for his parents had passed away.

The end