No. 7 The Chromatic Compendium of the Rainbow Ringmaster - The Shape of Clouds
The journey into the canvas was a soft landing onto those rolling green hills she had only ever seen from afar. The grass, a vibrant green she had never known, caressed her skin as she ran her hands through it mindlessly. The sky, a perfect, endless blue, stretched above her without a hint of the gray that had defined her old world. She was greeted by the sweet scent of grown grass and the gentle caress of a warm breeze. Her floating off in her world had ended but her flight in this world had just begun.
This was not a dream, this was a place she knew of, but had only been able to see through the eyes of others. It was the kind of place that exists only within the stories of travelers, the kind her father would try to describe to her when she was too small to understand. He would always end with, "We will go together someday soon, yes?" and then smile at her as if he held a secret of the world he couldn't wait to impart. That "someday soon" never came, until now, she finally found the peace she had only ever hoped for. On the other side, she found one of the places he spoke of, and she knew with all her aching heart that somehow someway her father had helped her find it. She remembered a man in her dreams speaking, what he said she could not recall but she remembered a voice gentle and kind. She could only assume it were her father, who else would watch over her so cautiously.
She was amazed at the contrast that existed between these worlds. Her floating in one that had previously been an act of preservation, turned into something completely new to her, it was a sensation of calm and connection. She felt the earth beneath her, a pulse of life and energy, the complete opposite of the deafening silence she had left behind.
She looked up, the clouds were not the familiar, shapeless puffs of her world. They were magnificent, intricate designs patterned like delicate shapes: stars, squares, circles. The sky shone through them, creating intricate patterns that were pieces of the world before her, it was the same fragile beauty that had been brought to Iris.
In a silent, joyful moment of discovery, Elara reached her hand out towards one. Her blue hand, a reminder of her own broken world, was reaching out to touch something whole and beautiful. She had crossed the threshold, and now, for the first time, she was a part of the wonder. As she reached for the sky, she felt herself lift, light as a cloud and free as one. She held loosely to Jester and found herself holding onto a piece of the cloud before her. It vanished in her hand, and she laughed heartily.
She bounced from hill to hill, her yellow nightgown swaying behind her, a ripple of sunlight catching every movement and coming alive with a life of its own. She turned to look back at where she had come from and found herself staring at a crescent moon descending in the distance. Around her, the sky became a swirl of color, hues of pink and orange dancing along the shaped clouds. She began to spin until she grew dizzy and swore she saw three dark blue stars appear in her vision every time she blinked. The world began to tilt on its axis, and she fell to the ground, making herself comfortable as she sat splayed in the long grasses.
The crescent moon moved closer and closer. On it stood an acrobat, who swayed gracefully as the moon spun. She danced delicately on its tip, and soon the moon hovered just a foot or so above Elara's head. The acrobat swiftly and gracefully pulled the ribbon from Elara's hair and began to spin it into shapes that mirrored the clouds—first a circle, then a star, then Elara's favorite, the heart. All the while she glided along the crescent's edge gracefully on the tips of her toes.
Entranced, Elara stood up slowly, not realizing the moon was ascending again. Then, once she noticed its swift distance, she began to reach into the air. "Wait!" Elara called out frantically. "Who are you?"
The woman on the moon smiled and tilted her head. In Elara's mind, a voice filled the empty spaces that existed there. She heard the name, "Iris." Crossing her legs swiftly, the woman on the moon bowed. Then, as she stood again, she silently pulled a piece of the moon between her fingertips. She swiftly sat down and fell backward, legs anchored on the crescent. She reached out to the little blue girl before her and handed her a piece of the moon. She handed her a gift that felt like an unspoken plea.
'Remember me. Find me.'
