Novus

The color was new, bright and bold. Even in the inky coils that prevailed in my paintbrush, it shone like a beacon. It made me think of wind against a canyon, an eagle crying in the desert. It was a shade of blue I had never seen before.

I grabbed a canvas from the stacks leaning against my wall. Closing my eyes, I envisioned the painting I would make. I spread the color in a wide arc, beginning the first part of the painting.

True to itself, it glowed, lighting up the painting in a way other colors could not. I sketched feathers on a grey sky, filling them in with the color and adding strokes of yellow as a background. I lightly filled the birds in with Novus, as I had decided to call it, complimenting everything I could.

As I used my fingertips to spread a maroon that was the shade of a peony, I thought of how everything was tied in and added it to the clouds, which were rolling in a painted sky.

In the end, there was an eagle, dappled with green and Novus, grass bending to make way for wind, which held faces that laughed as they passed. Clouds that seemed to be made from the beard of some ancient god drifted in, bringing stinging rains that flattened a sea of white roses.