The Colourful Room

A flame centres an otherwise barren grey room, accompanied only by a flock of birds barely maintaining flight above. The flame struggles to remember being lit, but continues its lively dance as that is all it knows. That is all it remembers doing. Eventually, the chirping of the birds as they fly slowly around the room sparks intrigue from the flame. It wonders why it’s the only flame, when there is nothing else but grey birds and the four grey walls enveloping them. Grey. Were they always grey? The flame wasn’t certain. It could’ve sworn the room it resides in used to have streaks of colour and passion throughout. The birds, did they not used to be marked with beautiful rainbows and patterns? As the flame sways with the wind trailing from the wings of the birds, it wonders why they so willingly continue their flight with nowhere to go. It begins to see reflections of itself, for it too continues its journey without question, a thought that had never occurred to the flame previously.

Time passes, and as the flame contemplates more and more, it notices the grey walls beginning to close in, the room becoming ever so slightly smaller and darker bit by bit. The grey birds seem unfazed by this however, so the flame does not worry at first. The room continues to shrink to the point the flame begins to panic, as without enough oxygen it is bound to stop existing. For the first time, the flame wishes it were a bird, wishes it could fly and live without regard to the four walls closing in around them, as they seem to do. This was new for the flame, who had never questioned its purpose of staying lit forever and always; until now.

More time passes, and for the first time the room falls silent. The birds are gone, leaving only the lonesome flame by itself. The flame hadn’t noticed the disappearance of the birds immediately, as it was too caught up in its own thoughts. It realised that the walls were remarkably close and could tell its time was almost up. The flame sees no way out of its fate, thus decides to accept its end gracefully, and let off its last spark of light without ever knowing why it was lit to begin with.

The rainbow birds abruptly stop their dancing and singing, concerned that their source of light had suddenly disappeared. The room is exactly the same as it has always been, only dark. The brightly coloured walls still stand in their original place and the lively flock of varying coloured birds are still here, but where did the flame go? They were unsure. Never had they thought of losing their flame, nor what to do afterwards. The flame was gone, taking the colour with him, leaving the birds in an unilluminated room by themselves. How could they fly the same, play and chirp as they used to without their precious flame to join in? After all, that was why they lit it in the first place.