“Our world will be saved if their art is true!” Bartholomew shouted again.
Alex reached into his pocket and felt the brown button. Now he understood why it had lead him here and what true art was. When Bartholomew sketched Mom in class, that had been true. His paintings that came from deep inside of him, true as well.
When Mom had gotten sick he’d stopped going to that special place. Well, not any more. It ends here. He broke off a few soda straw stalagmites and swirled them in the water.
The swirling stalactites became paintbrushes as the water turned into a palette of colored streams. Alex dipped a brush into the softest of browns and made two dots on the ground beside him. Then for the peach. And the golden yellow. Her blouse had been aqua. Don’t forget white. Oh how her teeth had shone.
A tiny bit of light emanated from the gold ring. Mom’s fingers began to glisten. Alex reached out to touch her hand and it glimmered, growing brighter until the entire cavern was basking in a warm glow.
Alex embraced his mother. A single beam formed in the center of their chests. Alex took a deep breath. See it. Believe. A fiery rose bloomed between them and thousands of golden rays shot forth.
Just like Alex in Artania, we all forget our unique wonder at times. But when we remember, man oh man, amazing things happen.