Where the flowers grew wild, and the trees stood proud, and turquoise streams gurgled, a town was built. Imniath, they called it. It was located in a wonderful place of serene grace -- the glorious touch of nature. But the beauty of the landscape was so much at odds with the nature of the people living there; the beauty was wasted on them, as was all pretty trinkets and things. They never truly smiled, and their hearts were filled with gloom and emptiness. The colours that made up their lives were black and white, as well as the grey in between. They did not truly live. They merely whiled away their time, going on about their work. A monotonous, plodding existence, punctuated by the odd event or two. They were not alive, not in the purest sense of the word. They did not feel anything. Their existence was a living dream. But it all changed with the compassionate touch of a certain visitor.

Eventually, word of this cursed town spread, and people did not dare to go near it. This went on for a while, with no visitors ever coming to the town. But as time passed, a simple traveling stonemason happened across it. He did not believe the rumours; he was a carefree man, always happy and smiling. He simply could not believe there was any darkness in anything. Thus, he was bursting with colours of red, green, teal, yellow, pink, and brown, a contrast to the town's monotonous swatches. So never in his life was he more shocked to see the town and its feeling of such profound sadness. So he devised a plan.

Now, the people of Imniath never knew love because their hearts could only feel emptiness and gloom, like a void. What marriages they had were arranged so that the families they belonged to would benefit. This traveller, though, was determined to change that. As soon as he reached home, he readied a stone and began chipping away at it. He had gathered materials, namely flowers, along the way and crushed their petals to make paints. For days, he laboured in his home, working till night, until finally, his masterpiece was created.

He walked back to Imniath and there, he presented his gift of colour and love to the mayor. The mayor, needless to say, accepted the stone sculpture and placed it on a marble pedestal in the center of the town, out of nothing more than politeness. As was a curious trait of the townspeople, they could not understand beauty, and therefore did not see anything in the sculpture but a piece of strangely hewn rock. They could not even see the riot of colours exploding from it. All they saw was grey, grey, and more grey. But almost immediately as the statue touched the pedestal, colours began to leak out of it. They painted the town with brightness. They chased away the dark, and ushered in light. Light, as the townspeople had never seen before. The trees were green, the water a cerulean blue and the clouds a snowy white.

The people had different emotions, the gloom falling apart as love and appreciation filled it instead. They started to praise the stonemason and the statue, whom they call Aremand, the God of Colour and Love. Their beliefs grew stronger, and soon, Aremand was no longer a statue, but a living creature that would roam the town freely.

Sacrifices

Aremand, nicknamed Remand by the people, would spend his days near the flowerbeds, turning flowers into critters. One of them, Ingra, was a swan born from a plum-coloured tulip. She held great meaning to him, as she was the first flower he turned into an animal. All seemed well for the town. But happiness does not last long.

The people soon started to believe that love was no longer by their side. Why and how? Someone was murdered at night, a married wife. Her husband had done the job. The villagers were frightened, horrified that Remand did not help. He could not. How could he bring back the dead? Weeps and sobs marred the air; it was a grievous day. Ever since then, no one believed in him, no one believed in the colours nor of love.

Soon enough, he started to fade. The colours he wore dimmed and the flower critters were dying. No one believed in him anymore. The town went back to grey and it was back to the old days, before the arrival of the stonemason. But there is light in the darkness.

The children still believed in him and they promised the God that they would do whatever it would take to bring his colours. It was not enough, though. Remand, though, was still entitled to his duty: to protect the village. And he did. He called the children to bring him the last colours of the town and they did.

Along with the last flower critter, Ingra, he gave himself up. He imbued his essence into the materials, the children giving them to their parents. As the children talked to them, convinced them, they started to believe once more. The town flourished with beauteous colours.

But he was no longer there, not physically. His beliefs are now in the children, the town, the people. It is their responsibility to carry it out, to honour his sacrifice. Aremand loved them, yet he was never free. He was only bound to his responsibility.

CREDITS

I also would love to thank my awesome coding mentor and friend extraordinaire Ornate. Thank you for coding this page for me because I'm rubbish in coding. /cries. Also, thank you for adding bits to the story. I don't know what I did to deserve such a nice friend like you. /wails.

Lastly, you Subetans, if you have read this page until the end. I know it's short, forgive me for that.