Green eyes flecked with gray and gold stared unrelenting at the blank white wall. The

plainness of the wall stared back. Thin legs bent, knees touching the plastic shielded carpet

on the floor. Long arms reached downwards. A moments pause. The eyes lingered in the

blank wall opposite them. Then they darted to the cans at her knees. Long fingers flexed

and the left hand wrapped around the screwdriver with the red and yellow handle. The tool

slid under the edge of the can's lid and pried upwards. The top came off with a damp

smacking sound like an egg dropping from its shell into a bowl. The eyes were dazzled by

orange. The nose breathed deep the fresh new smell of paint. Lips smiled. Her hands

began to work again, prying off the lids one by one. Releasing the colors from their prison

to her eyes. No more in shadow do they lie. She thought. Her eyes wondered at the blue,

the yellow, the red, the green. The screwdriver fell to the floor as her hand grasped the

brush. The handle is smooth wood about a quarter inch in diameter, worn by time and use.

It rolled between her fingers. Back and forth, around and around. Her green eyes returned

to the ghostly wall. Staring it down. Sudden motion. The brush briefly touching the green

paint before it attacked the wall with such vigor as was never seen in this place. Her laugh

shook the air as the color flew from her brush. It was directed, smudged, mixed, layered.

Each color in its turn. Paint began to run down her arm. It was spattered on her face and

dripped on her clothes. If she noticed she did not care. All she saw, all she knew was the

colors mixing, twisting, dancing themselves into a mural which covered up the tasteless

wall. She was red and violet, her brush was blue and orange, the wall was a rainbow. A

frantic mix of color and time and space and energy. Light was turned this way and that in

this labyrinth of confused and dancing colors. Music filled her head. It moved her brush

and her feet. She danced with the colors and with the light and with the music inside her.

The color and the light and the music all swirled around and around her becoming one

force which overpowered and filled her to the top. Then it stopped. Suddenly. Like a flash

of lightning. The music was silent. She heard only the cars on the street below. The paint

on her hands was sticky and her jeans were a rainbow of streaks and spots. Her brush

dripped a mixture of swirled blue and yellow. Empty hand flew to brush blonde hair from

the eyes which did not leave the wall. No longer white. No longer plain. No longer pallid

and empty. What it once had been was no longer. The wall had been granted a new

beginning. A rebirth. The wall was covered in dancing, churning colors in patterns and

forms and shapes that leaped across the emptiness that had been once upon a time. A sigh

escaped her lips. A sigh of satisfaction. Of making something beautiful. A rainbow puddle

pooled on the plastic covered floor. She grinned and stepped foreword, dipping her hand

into it. She stared at her palm then smacked it against the wall that was now art. It was her