Neve Champion

The rain trickled from the sky, moving thoughtlessly from somewhere way up high to somewhere way down below. It gave no struggle, put up no fight as the clouds – evidently its master – flung it down with little effort. One troop after another were sent down to the battleground, attacking the defenceless victims below. Picnic plans eroded, day-long outings made significantly wetter, and spirits drowned. All because of the brainwashed droplets coming from a place masked by a single sheet of grey. It was a deep, soul-sucking grey, one that sucked the colour our of the world; the only ones left being shady greens and overcast blues. The sunless sky couldn’t help but fill the world with hopelessness. Even what should have been a gorgeous sunset was washed away by the beast, locked up like a secret deemed too precious for the Earth to get its hands on. It was life-draining, hope-destroying, body-aching; down below was controlled by a ruthless monster who refused to stop sending mind-controlled fleets to attack, at least until every last glimmer of hope was truly destroyed. It seemed like it would never end, the army was infinite. The world wondered if the mutant would ever give in, ever stop its reign of terror down below.

Up above, the monster was a mere star in a solar system of ambition and hope. The sun was free to roam this place and was allowed to do whatever it wished. It could dance, sing, even sleep if it wanted to. The sun teetered on the edge of a faraway peak, one out of the reach from the world down below, and contemplated what it was to do next. Should it sleep? Or maybe it should remain awake and dance with the raindrops, foil the monster’s plans down below and switch the outdated grey painting for a unique collage of colours. As the sun thought, a brainwave of pink candyfloss, blue bubblegum and golden jewels swayed up above, moving rhythmically to a silent melody. The colours greeted each other with a blurred bow and immediately moved into hold as if they had done it a million times before, which they had. Dancing was a great way to pass the time, it seemed. The routine could have lasted for mere seconds, or maybe it was days, but the colours spun and twirled and jived to their beat nonetheless. Until a decision had been made.

The sun sunk lower and lower, allowing the beast to keep its grasp over the world below. As it descended, the sun promised to play a leading role tomorrow, that way, the hope down below would be rebuilt twice as strong as it had been prior to the attack; clearly, the beast didn’t know that its reign of despair only caused a desire for ambition, and that was exactly what the sun promised to deliver.