It was another day in the four-sided frame of nothingness. The tree near the centre right never moved and the white pony was usually tied to it. The fat four-legged companion always munched away on the grass that never changed. Sir Cadagan noticed the only thing that changed was the paint. Years of no refurbishment had forced his painting to begin to flake and the sides of the canvas were beginning to curl. The wooden frame was cracking. Sir Cadagan feared the day that he would pass into non-existence and be no more than another fire starter.
Sir Cadagan paced back and forth looking out of his painting at the passing students as they descended the stairwell. He would occasionally challenge them, but what was the point? The students just called him crazy. He was on the seventh floor in a tower where students only came to go to class. It was a class that few ever wanted to go to.
“What I would give to live a life of theirs”, he sighed. “To live a life where I could be three dimensional! To be able to dust myself! To not have to worry about fading in the sun…”
And his sorrows increased. The only happiness was in his daily stroll where he would journey with his fat pony to fellow paintings in the school, but due to his character he was rarely greeted with joy. Most other paintings found him brainless and they found his pony always ate their food. His popularity among the paintings in the school was decreasing.
Today he walked into a simple painting of a bowl full of plastic fruit. This painting was located in a dark corner of the Headmaster’s study. His pony immediately walked over to the bowl and started to munch away. After eating an apple and half a banana, the pony realised the fruit was plastic and inedible. The fat pony then curled up next to Sir Cadagon who was leaning on the bowl taking a rest.
Dozing away Sir Cadagon put more of his weight onto the bowl and the apple core plummeted on top of him. With a shock the knight gave a starteling scream awakening his pony and the Headmaster who was snoozing at his desk. The aging wizard walked over to the painting. Sir Cadagon fled behind the fruit bowl in fear, but his pony just sat dreary eyed at the arriving Headmaster.
“Sir Cadagon I know it is you,” said the Headmaster.“What are you doing distrupting my study?”
“I followed my feet and they brought me here kind Sir,” apologised the cowering knight.
“Well then I suppose you should follow your feet somewhere else,” snapped the Wizard.
“But dear Headmaster. I have nothing to do. I have no purpose!”
“Well what does your painting’s title say?”
“It just says my name and the rest was scratched off years ago by a student. I challenged him to a duel, but he fled from the bite of my blade! I have now forgotten what the words said. Without those words I am nothing! And now my painting is growing old and I have no purpose!”
“You must then contact your Painter,” said the Headmaster. “Here take this paint brush. With a stroke it can take you to any painting, but the painting that it will take you to will be random. You cannot choose the painting to which you will travel to. If chance is on your side you should come across the Painter.”
The old Headmaster retrieved a gold handled brush from a drawer in his desk. He walked back over to the painting of the bowl of fruit and handed it to Sir Cadagon.
“Good luck Sir Cadagon,” yawned the Wizard. “Now go and let me sleep…. Oh and when your done could you give me that brush back?”
“Certainly! I won’t let you down great Headmaster!”
Sir Cadagon lifted his white pony onto his four hooves and he jumped on its back. With a stroke of the gold handled brush the knight and his fat steed disappeared in a surge of colours in search of the Painter.