Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2092094
by Paul D
Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #2092094
Art can change the world.
I've always been a creative person, and although I enjoyed art, I couldn't draw a straight line even with a ruler. This lack of ability frustrated me, but I didn't let it stop me from creating my own art. My art, which I never allowed anyone else to see. My own special art created with my eyes closed. Art from the depth of my imagination that comes to life on the canvas, which I call psychic art. I'll forever reget the day it all started.

Everyone in my third grade class was excited about the trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. I was happy to get out of classes for the day. The bus trip from Harrisburg was boring and uneventful. The bus ride was mostly a loud racket of kids yammering about nothing. I tuned most of it out by doodling on a small notepad.

I closed my eyes. I really hated being bored. In my mind, I envisioned the bus pulling into the parking lot at the aquarium. Keeping my eyes closed, I let my imagination flow freely through the pen onto the notepad. I could feel my vision becoming reality, then I opened my eyes.

Has a drawing ever astonished you? Some of the drawings of Galileo astonished me, and the drawing on my notepad was beyond astonishing. It was a beautiful picture that my hand could not have created.


The scene outside the bus was an exact match to the one on my notepad. The kids on the bus were now a bunch of screaming lunatics, and who could blame them because the digital transit sign above the driver said, Planet Mars: Universal Aquarium.

The driver quietened everyone, and we all sat there and stared at a sight no human eyes had ever seen. The driver opened the door and walked down the steps then motioned for the rest of us to follow.

When I stepped onto the planet, the first thing I noticed was the red dirt. This may seem obvious, but a telescope does not do it justice. This was a red color unique unto itself. I really couldn't find the words to describe it. While I was standing there thinking about the dirt, another bus landed near ours.

The differences between our bus and the other one were innumerable. It didn't actually land on the planet. It hovered mere inches above the surface. The kids who emerged from the bus were human, but their clothing was like nothing ever seen before. We all stared at them as they stared back.

Their clothing was just one difference. They floated just above the surface of the planet. A boy next to me said, “Is this for real?”

I decided that now was not the time to mention notepads and doodling. I looked at Mr. Timmons, the bus driver. His face appeared to have a sickly green cast to it.

The kids from the other bus floated toward the aquarium. One of the girls said, “Are we just going to stand here all day?”

Her words seemed to get Mr. Timmons into action. “Come on along to the aquarium. Maybe we can get some answers there.”

“No one believed we would get any answers, but we had no where else to go.”

“I hope they have normal food here,” I added. If not, perhaps I could draw some, and those thoughts I kept to myself.

My first impression of the aquarium was that it had at least one thing in common with other aquariums: water. We all stopped at the first exhibit. The reactions of our group varied. A few kids screamed, some turned their heads, a few vomited, a couple turned and ran out of the building, and the rest of us were like zombies at a mortician's convention.

How do you describe something in the water that has a human skull like appearance with horrific teeth and four eyes? The thing was beyond scary. My worst nightmare would have been heaven on Earth compared to this fish-monster thing.


That first exhibit was quite tame compared to the rest. I expected that everyone on this trip would have nightmares for years to come. Mr. Timmons found the administrator of the aquarium. After his brief conversation, he returned with a face almost as pasty white as the Pillsbury dough boy.

The students were all afraid to speak to him. Finally, he gathered everyone into a group. “I spoke to the administrator.” His voice quivered as if it might shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. “We . . . we are five hundred years into the future.”

No one said a word. Who could possibly believe such nonsense? I heard one boy mumble, “Poor Mr. Timmons has lost his mind.”

I was inclined to agree. Everyone knows time travel was impossible, but on the other hand, everyone knows that Mars was an empty wasteland. I tightly gripped my small notebook. Did I draw reality in the future, or did what I draw become reality?

Mr. Timmons herded all of us back to the bus. The students were all quiet. It was sort of eerie like having a party at the morgue. I sat all the way in the back of the bus and scrunched myself into a corner where no one could see what I was doing.

I opened my notebook. I needed to know if I was creating reality or changing reality. I put my pen to the paper and closed my eyes. I focused on my cat, George Henry the Second. I saw my cat walking up and down the aisle of the bus, and then I drew my picture.

I opened my eyes and looked at the picture. It was a mess of squiggly lines, and there was no cat walking the aisle. I felt a bit of fear now because I did not change reality. My drawing created a new reality. I closed my notebook.

How could I undo what I did? What would happen if I destroyed the picture in my notebook? Did I dare to draw another picture to create another reality? Sitting in the bus, watching the glum expressions on the faces of the kids, I felt bad for causing this situation.

I'd never been to the National Aquarium in Baltimore, but I'd seen a picture online. I focused my thoughts on that picture. I opened my notebook, set my pen to paper, and closed my eyes. I let my imagination take my pen and draw.

Screams from inside the bus startled me. I opened my eyes and looked down at what I'd drawn: the National Aquarium with the Chesapeake Bay in the foreground. I bounced in my seat.

I looked out the window. The bus was floating in the bay. I was stunned.


Suddenly, a large school of fish surfaced. The kids on my side of the bus screamed. Huge big mouth fish with more teeth than a lumber mill attacked the bus with a vengeance and started eating the metal.


My stomach was doing flip flops. We were all going to die here if I didn't get this next picture right. I focused on a picture in my mind and set my pen to the paper. I closed my eyes and focused. Then I let my imagination flow through the pen.

Have you ever let your imagination run wild? It really was not a good idea because the unpredictable can come into reality. My big mouth and razor teeth ripped at the bus seat while my fins attempted to hold a pen and draw. I know it was a bizarre sight. I don't understand how my last drawing went so wrong. I don't like being stuck in this fish body. I was gasping for water while trying to draw.

* * *

Internet Sensation: Mr. Edward Timmons and his painting fish.

Despite hordes of naysayers, Mr. Timmons has gathered a strong following. Numerous skeptics have tried to prove that the fish is a fake, but no one has been able to explain how the fish produces paintings. The paintings are not very good and appear to be of a school bus, but the fact that a fish is producing them makes them of great value.

Mr. Timmons found the fish in unusual circumstances. On a field trip to the National Aquarium, one of the students disappeared, and the strange fish was found. Mr. Timmons and his fish have been an internet sensation ever since.

1417 words
© Copyright 2016 Paul D (pdmarques at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2092094