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A painter discovers paint that moves around the canvas. When he experiments more the paintings seem to develop consciousness.
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Jack stared at the messed up canvas in front of him, the wine in his hand forgotten as his mind wandered to that fateful day 3 years ago, when he received the call that his wife had been tragically killed in an attack. The red paint on the canvas began to move and swirl, and an ethereal voice seemed to emerge from the canvas. Jack panicked, thinking he'd gone mad, he groped around in his pocket and produced his flask, before taking several large gulps.
Jack slowly accepted that the talking paint wasn't a figment of his imagination. Its voice was vibrant, almost musical, and it seemed to know all of the struggles that he had been going through. The paint offered Jack something impossible: it said that if Jack gave it his finest brush, it would give him anything that his heart desired. He hesitated, but when his heart lept at the thought of getting his wife back, he knew that he had to take the chance.
Jack moves around, examining each painting. He brushes his fingers in awe along the intricate details that make up the vibrant, living art pieces. We see memories of a childhood filled with storytelling, of his parents, of long days in the park, looping in and out of the imagery around him. His past, his present, his hopes for the future are all present in each stroke of paint which captures his every emotion.
His gaze freezes on one painting: his wife. She is captivating, and he doesn't want to look away. He is mesmerized. Finally, he tears his gaze away and he notices that the painting is calling to him, whispering in his ear, entreating him to come closer.
Encouraged by the voice of the woman in the painting, Jack steps forward and reaches out, ready to take his wife into his arms. He notices the brush strokes in her eyes, and he is suddenly filled with a wave of realization: none of this is real.
Jack is overwhelmed but does his best to leap away, to avoid the embrace of his creation. Unfortunately, he is not fast enough. He is caught in a vise grip and feels himself being crushed. His last thoughts, before succumbing to death, are of the brush that was cast aside moments before in a bid for safety.
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