With a drop to the floor, the silhouette began to fade, and the teen dropped to his knees. Again, he reached to the crowd and the red roses came to his aid. Some people even threw theirs to get them to the stage faster, but once again, as the rose petals fell upon the dying woman, they turned to black and were left behind as the image faded.
The teen was left again to hang his head low.
"My love...once again, couldn't save them."
Rising up once more the defeated teen stood before me then, and I couldn't help but reach out to pat the outlined head. "It's...okay," I whispered.
The lights around us centered behind me, and I turned to see the large canvas on display. Like the recent other canvases, it was blank to all of us. I returned my eyes to the teen, and he floated into the air and spun around me. He was now an adult, and his silhouette glowing figure looked as if he wore a suit with his hair now tied back in a short ponytail.
Returning to stand next to me, the man reached for my dress once more, and the touch lit up the white palette beneath my feet. He crouched down to touch it and a large brush lit up in his grasp.
He seemed to be happy, like the bad times had passed, as he raced to the grand piece of work. With the movement of his brush, he began to reveal a man at the same height as him - his energy of pink and teal.
The new man gave off a fatherly vibe, and I prepared my heart for what I knew was approaching as the man began to skip around the older figure as he pointed to the canvas.
Passing the brush to the older man, he stood back to watch the older glowing silhouette begin to tap the brush to the blank canvas.
We watched in amazement as a corner of the canvas began to light up in the same neon energy that had unraveled this captivating story. The sight of the neon shades projecting so vividly on the canvas like they glowed in the dark was what was really growing to be the buzz as the last bits of sunlight in the sky vanished at that moment.
The colors and shades that blended together continued to spread from the bottom left corner, but then the older man looked to his left, and with a toss of his brush, he tried to run in the opposite direction as if he were trying to avoid something.
The brush seemed to be pulled back to its wielder like a magnet - and it pierced through the man who crumbled to the ground.
Yet again, the younger man rushed to his loved one's aid, his hand reaching out to the crowd for support, but it didn't matter that those who held roses already threw them in the air in an attempt to get them to their destination faster.
The older silhouette was flickering with his last speck of light, but unlike with the others, he reached out to pat the man's head like I'd done. The red roses turned to black before they hit the ground, and the man was left there in his sorrow as his head hung low.
We watched in complete silence as he rose up and looked to the large piece of work that was only 1/10th done. He shook his head as he began to walk away from it before he stood on my left side.
He reached out to the crowd as if roses would come to him like the other times, but nothing reached his grasp. He moved to my left side and did the same deed.
Not a single rose came to his grasp, and all eyes fell on me as I held the bouquet of flowers. I was going to offer them to him as he looked back to the large canvas, but he began to stomp his foot and tug at his outlined hair.
He ruffled it in frustration and walked around me as he tossed the suit coat to reveal his outlined arms and the marks that glowed in red. Tears began to spill at the chaotic behavior of the magical image as the man spun and clung to his hair while neon blue droplets ran down his face.
He kicked at the black petals, and the action ignited a gust to lift them up as he moved vigorously across the stage until he was in front of me and the center of attention from the crowd as he lifted his hands up.
The wind carried all the black petals into the air, but they remained their onyx color of lifelessness as they began to fall at an extremely slow pace.
In defeat, the man's hands fell as his head looked to the floor.
"To love, again and again, only to have to submit in defeat to the ultimate enemy called life," the voice whispered. "The sky looked inviting. The hues of darkness somehow led to a world of peace. That's all anyone wants. Peace."
The man looked to the crowd as we all seemed to realize he was at the edge of the stage. He reached to take a step forward, the petals that fell still in their places in the air like the world had frozen.
I don't know why I did what I did, but I reached out to grab the silhouette's hand, and everyone seemed to do the same as they reached forward like roses would float through the sky to give him the love he desperately deserved.
My hand went through the silhouette as he leaned forward, and all I could do was throw the bouquet of the last remaining flowers as I fell to my knees.
The bundle of flowers soared as the silhouette fell off the edge. They hit the image in the back, which made him and the flowers burst into black petals.
The silence lingered as we just watched the petals begin to fall again. The silhouette of the man was now gone. I was left alone on the stage, my tears dropping down to the circle spot beneath me.
No one dared to speak. Some people had their hands on their mouths to muffle their sobs, while others cried proudly as they stared at the stage before them.
The wind picked up and a single red petal fluttered right in front of me. I sniffed and tried to wipe away my tears, before reaching for the single red petal that somehow sparked a drop of hope.
"As a being of this world, we are created to love. To be attracted to the signs of love, to absorb the actions of love, and to wish to deliver love to those lacking it," the voice narrated as the soft beam of light landed upon me.
"Many experience throughout their lifetime the emotional burden love brings. They give and give until the world has the petals of their love and they have nothing to give to themselves. They allow their lives to revolve around the expectations of family, friends, and the negative expectations of others. They're bullied to think the single rose of love we all share within ourselves is different instead of being the same. We all wish for love. To be hopeful and make our permanent home. A land of peace. Yet life hits us when we least expect it, and sometimes no matter how much love is thrown in your direction it falls into a funnel that makes the world dark."
My eyes widened when the petal in my grasp began to glow until it was an orange petal with hints of gold. I rose up while holding it in my finger's grasp, the move catching everyone's attention as they noticed what I held.
"But through the peak of darkness, there's a single beam of light waiting at the end of the tunnel," the voice declared as I turned around to look at the unfinished piece. I was immediately drawn to it, and without hesitation, I walked towards the canvas as the spotlight followed my every step.
"Many believe that the little actions of love we share don't reach the hearts of those in great despair. That our words don't reach those in deep slumber, and that the eyes of a dying person can't see the sorrowful expressions upon our faces, seconds before they rise upward towards the sky."
The voice paused as I stopped before the canvas, and I stared at the petal one last time.
"No matter how small our spark of love is, its touch can change someone's lifetime."
With those words that echoed around us, I lightly placed the petal to the canvas and watched it begin to spread black along the surface like a burning sheet of paper. I took a few steps back as the heat escalated, and the wind picked up, which lifted the black petals into the sky to lift higher and higher.