Blank Canvas

It was a wondrous world to which ideas came to die without being savored by the creative mind, not exactly a place of visual pleasure but aethereal essence, a raw beauty indeed. It had no outstanding features other than decaying shapes spread across the wasteland, these strange figures were letters. They came in different shapes, and scales, lying around and long forgotten on the ground some as big as mountains; those were the grass and ground of the world and the paper, the floor. The land was in silence and the smell of the air was of emptiness and dust. From the sky, a colorful rain descended but never touched the ground or seemed to be, no living beings lurked in the surroundings, only two shadows guided by a third one, the brightest star in the known universe.

Their bare feet were already accustomed to the different textures of their world, however, their gait was insecure as they explored the terrain. One of them was Palette, she had the ability to see beauty in everything. Her dark benevolent eyes looked at the celestial vault which reflected the nebulalike scenery, feeling the tingly sensation in her right hand and missing the company of her friend, the brush.

Her companion, just as strange as her, was another female, she looked at the ground, her young face had a pensive grin while she went on her knees to touch the surface and let go a sigh of relief; then her velvet black eyes joined her partner's to contemplate the empyrean, the universe was inside her eyes as well, she raised and spoke.

'Life dwells deep inside this chaos, this world is not death, but asleep. I shall gather these symbols and create with them manuscripts and scrolls and thus awaken the magic that lies within!'

Palette turned her face towards Scribe and looked back to the sky.

'I shall collect the color that falls from the heavens, the primordial light shall be my paint to bring to life the worlds of your tales.'

And that is how it began; the wordsmith took her quill with her left hand and carefully put it on a letter which soon turned into ink and was absorbed by the pen, as this happened, she smiled. Palette rushed for her brush and raised it to the skies; the aurora borealis that hovered in the atmosphere fell onto it and together started to put the broken world back into the glorious masterpiece that was begging to get ordered while the star waved its tail in support.

The team of creators set to work, the star started sniffing the ground and went further away from his masters, he waved his tail as he roamed around the area; his instinct was attracted towards the heavenly vault, the brown eyes of the canine star Sirius looked upwards and there it was. A shining comet was approaching rather rapidly, the dog star barked and Scribe, who was immersed in writing jumped in surprise.

What?!

She looked up again, her grin reflected annoyance, for she was taken out of her literary reverie as she wrote her verses on the clean ground; but instantly changed to astonishment after seeing the astral body passing by. But that was not the only event that made these goddesses of creativity get carried away with their creation. Palette, on the other hand, as soon as she noticed it started screaming frantically at it. She lifted her brush and screamed.

"Mighty lord of light, this place has been claimed by us first and we shall finish our masterpiece in peace, begone in peace or subcomb to me!"

The small meteor kept its course, Scribe knew it would collapse to the planetoid of words and color, she lifted her quill too, defiant and with a mighty strike, gathered a big amount of ink and threw it to the fireball approaching, both artists smiled, accepting the challenge. The battle cry of the writer was even more stronger and intimidating than her companion.

"I create as I speak, the thunder, the force, and the imagination. Will destroy this meteor into annihilation!"

The two individuals summoned the forces of color and words, propelling them into the meteor, Sirius, the star, barked and shone around them cheering for the mighty females. Their powers were strong, but they didn't destroy their objective. Something else was born instead, it was a winged snake, absorbing the nearby stars and roaring in an intimidating way but Scribe and Palette didn't recoil. The battle was on course but there was something that put a pause on Palette's focus, she felt in her leg that something touched her sweetly; a soft rub. Her eyes met the greenish ambers in the feline face, Sirius, saw him too and waved his tail pleased, and Scribe was still challenging their adversary. The other grabbed it and recognized the little star, it was the cat´s constellation, felis, but they liked to call him Marshamallow. The tender creature made an affirmative gesture and rubbed his body on Sirius' in a friendly manner, the appearance of her second friend made Palette look at her sister.

Her mighty strikes cut the air leaving a white trace behind, writing powerful symbols in the fire body of the beast that was going to devour the wasteland. When she noticed her sister's gaze she looked at the painter and came to the same realization. This was a useless battle, they were creators and destroyers but they created a new beginning for them without knowing or having the intention, they were equals to entities as powerful and as transcendental as time, so why focus on a single planetoid that was just another pawn in the chess game of creation and evolution? They, goddesses of literature and art embraced a new destiny for them, they grabbed their hands and commanded the two stars to fly away. Both pairs of feet that once were insecure, elevated above the floor, more confident, their hands, one with the quill and the other with the brush pointed at the roaring dragon. They were smiling and promised that they would impregnate the essence of life and intellect beyond eternity.

The cataclysm was glorious, small in measure but legendary, both creators disintegrated into million molecules, they knew the existence of a creature that was awaiting in the primeval soup of the earth, they were the last ingredient to combine in the divine essence of men; creativity, dialogue, shapes, depth, and beauty in all its glory. As soon as the explosion happened, the souls of Palette and Scribe set course to the earth to fall like the thunder and aurora and fuse together, they were happy, and they could not die. The goddesses of creativity just changed into creators of expression, language, and inspiration of the human race.

The stars understood their masters and friends knew they needed to transform and that a friendship like theirs would inspire wonderful masterpieces, from the core of the human intellect, taking a unique shape.

Dear reader, this is an anthem to them, and always think, as a pen pours ideas in all the languages, as a blank canva is filled with colors, the goddesses Scribe and Palette, the two essences that can order chaos and give birth to the beauty of art and literature are guiding that blessed hand.