FLASH GORDON FICTION 684 words
In a cramped attic studio bathed in the hesitant glow of dawn, Lila sat before her canvas, the bristles of her brush trembling against the white expanse. Her life as an artist was a mosaic of unpaid bills and unmet expectations. Yet, each stroke was a whisper of hope, a defiance against the mundane life that clawed at her spirit.
The dreams had begun on a night when the stars seemed to write secrets across the sky. She saw her paintings break free from their frames, vibrant and alive, dancing to a melody that hummed at the edge of perception. The figure in her dreams, cloaked in the radiance of the cosmos, spoke of the astral plane—a realm where the soul’s voice could paint reality.
Under the figure’s tutelage, Lila learned to channel her astral voyages onto the canvas. Her nightly sojourns across star-strewn paths and through nebulas pulsing with the universe’s heartbeat transformed her art. The colors deepened, the images stirred with an unseen wind, and the figures she painted began to breathe with an ethereal life.
With each piece, Lila wove her astral encounters into the fibers of the canvas. Viewers stood before her works, tears streaming down their faces, laughter bubbling from their lips, hearts aching with nostalgia for places their feet had never tread. Her art became a portal through which the weary souls found solace and the joyous spirits soared higher.
As the boundary between her reality and the dreamscape blurred, Lila’s existence became a living canvas, her emotions the palette from which she drew her magic. The mysterious figure’s lessons resonated deeper, teaching her that art was not just an expression but an extension of the artist’s essence, capable of touching the divine spark within each person.
Yet, as her fame grew, so did the realization that the astral plane was not just a place of beauty and light. There were shadows, too, folds in the fabric of the universe where sorrow and pain echoed. The figure warned her that to ignore them would be to paint only half a picture.
Faced with the choice to explore these darker realms, Lila hesitated. Stirring these somber shades into her work filled her with dread. But the figure, ever her guide, reminded her that true art reflects the full spectrum of experiences; the joy cannot shine without the contrast of sorrow.
Embracing this, Lila ventured into the shadowed valleys of the astral plane, her heart fortified by the knowledge that even in the dark, one could find colors unseen in the light. Her new works were a symphony of light and dark, embracing the universe’s complex tapestry.
The impact was profound. Those who viewed these pieces reported awakenings, a stirring of something fundamental within them. Some mended fractured relationships; others found the courage to change their paths. Lila’s art had become a window to the soul and a mirror reflecting the viewer’s deepest self back to them.
The figure’s final visit came as Lila stood in her studio, the walls now adorned with the celestial echoes of her journey. “You have learned the ultimate truth of the Astral Artist,” the figure said, its voice a melody of a thousand harmonies. “You have transcended the role of a creator. You are now a conduit of healing, a weaver of the cosmic tapestry that binds every living being.”
With those words, the figure dissolved into stardust, leaving Lila with the certainty that her dreams had been more than just figments of her imagination. They were the universe speaking through her, and she had been its willing scribe.
Now, when Lila paints, she does so with the knowledge that each brushstroke carries a piece of the infinite. Her art is a beacon, guiding others through the vastness of their spirits, showing them the beauty of their light and the grace in their shadows.
In the gallery of existence, Lila’s paintings hang as portals to the astral plane, a testament to the Astral Artist who bridged the expanse between two realms and, in doing so, found her true purpose.