Dark absence creeps to replace the sun as it rolls slowly down, into the horizon. The day is gone. The three children are out. It is time for them to play their curious game. A curious but simple game.
Cautiously, at first. They pause at the threshold of the starting point, all looking in through the opening. And there it is! Lying inert in the center of the field, the goal which will bring victory to those who reach it. Yet beware! Three great guardians hover above the goal, each with a net of red, blue, and orange.
The first player, a seething youth with wicked glare of hate, makes the first attempt. He throws an especially contemptuous gaze at the guardian with the red net and advances onto the field. The other two players protest, but their objections remain unheard as the daring devil makes an impatient and arrogant bound towards the goal.
He comes close, almost upon the destination. With a mighty effort, he makes a final leap towards the goal. Suddenly a red net is thrown upon him. He struggles and curses at his captor, but the guardian with the red net refuses to let him pass. He yells, rages, struggles, all silently, but guardian’s grasp on the net refuses to give permission. Too churlish and belligerent, it is decreed. This one is not allowed to reach the goal.
The second approach is made by another youth, whose eyes twinkle with mischief and mirth. He is aware that he cannot avoid the net; he has a plan. Striding towards the goal, as surely as the sea, he sends a cheery, noiseless call to the guardians. They notice, and immediately a blue net is cast over him. Yet this player is one of quick wit, and with garrulous amiability assuages the guardians’ doubts. Witty and delightful, it is decided. This one may proceed.
The player passes through the net and floats down slowly. Upon landing lightly on the goal, immediately and fantastically the surface of the goal erupts into color, of every nuance and shade of blue. The player dances, jumps, and laughs in time with the blue colors, all moving and pulsing rhythmically. Swiftly yet slowly the performance reaches its climax. The colors beat brighter and greater than before, the vividness rivaling that of any firework or star. The performer, moving quicker than than a blur, motions fluid and blending into a single form, again and again countlessly.
And then it is over. The second child ends his display, satisfied, and pushes off the goal and leaves, as lightly as he arrived. The blue color still remains. Now it is the third child’s time.
He does not rush, venting hate or anger. He does not strut, eager and energetic. He moves, calmly yet purposely. The guardians cast their final net, orange webs meant to cut off the third member’s approach, but to no effect. There is no stopping this one, the solemn fact is stated.
The child lands upon the goal, and just as the second player’s touch brought blue color, the third child takes it away. Striding along, all bits of blue are swept away, though traces remain here and there. He reaches the head of the goal and in a single movement taps the surface. Orange, bright but not harshly so blossoms and spreads throughout the goal. Then the third child leaves, serene and fulfilled.
The sun rises, brilliant orange rays complementing the last player’s marks. Brightness creeps higher along the goal until they pry open a pair of eyes.
The day is here. The game of dreams is over.