I sat on the table and in the words of our mothers, caused a mess around. New joy found in wood carving and shaping, I sat on the workbench carving. Being creative has it’s pros and cons and one of the cons (with me that is) is that I get too creative.
“But it’s a form of art. Abstractive art. Attractive art. New art. It has got dimensions! It’s a multidimensional art!”, I tried to explain to both our moms but they both looked at me as if a horn made of banana peel was growing on my head at an astounding speed.
“Just clean after yourself.”, mom finally said and left the room.
And now here I am. Adding the final features. On this “thing”. And exactly then I heard you say, “I am feeling a bit bored Al.” From the bed. You’ve been trying to study in the light that came from the window but I was fixated to the chair.
“Let me lighten your mood. Riddle time.”, I said and your yelp of glee said to me you liked the idea. “There is a jail, with walls four. But closer to you is he who is inside it and yours.”
“Wow. How do you write these things all of a sudden? Like from thin air. Magician. My magician Al!”, you say and tickle my neck from behind.
“Okay okay giving you a hint my Angel. The walls are so fragile that a single touch can leave it scarred. But still the prisoner cannot escape.”, I say and you look at me and whisper pass in my ear.
“A heart my Angel.”, I say and handle you a product made after two days. “Open it and describe what you are going through.”
You hands and fingers play around the box and then the conclusions begin. “It’s a box. With two doors that open and four chambers. And some sort of pipes. You’ve made a heart?”, you ask and say no.
“A box shaped heart my Angel.”, I say. “Now a secret. Place your fingers at the point where all four meet. And now pull it up.”
You do as I ask and behind it are you. Painted on the wall of this box. The prison. The heart.
“You’re my prisoner.”, I say and you blush a fiery red.
“You’re mad Al.”, you say and embrace me; only because you’re shy at this moment.