The Prism: A Show of How I Feel

Hello 🫗🌐

What a great way to start the summer. I've had myself some outside hours to do various tasks, including writing with a pencil. What should I write about, you might ask. We all have decided to make things useful for riddle.cam. The point of this is to motivate myself more, perhaps by reading books or writing. Skill is like a wave at surfing,  where things just go casual and smoothly as the graces of the ocean wash the shore. It is very important that I maintain a creative path full of study and logical reason. So I am but a developed sense waiting to wash ashore. Best to you!

How I feel today

Prism

In the hushed stillness of the attic, nestled amongst forgotten relics and dust-kissed memories, lay a prism. Not a grand, imposing artifact, but a humble wedge of crystal, no larger than a child's fist. Its facets, honed with forgotten precision, seemed to drink in the muted light filtering through the grime-streaked windowpane, holding it captive in its cool, silent depths.

One sun-drenched afternoon, a curious ray, bolder than its timid companions, dared to pierce the gloom and strike the prism directly. What happened next was not an explosion, but a whisper of transformation. The single, monochromatic beam, once a stoic testament to unity, fractured into a silent symphony of colors.

A vibrant crimson bled into a fiery orange, which in turn yielded to a cheerful yellow. Emerald green danced alongside a serene blue, finally giving way to a contemplative indigo and a regal violet. The attic, for a fleeting moment, was no longer a realm of shadows but a canvas splashed with pure, unadulterated light. Each hue, distinct and individual, yet born from the same source, shimmered on the ancient floorboards, painting ephemeral masterpieces that shifted with every passing cloud.

The prism, unmoving and impassive, remained the silent orchestrator. It didn't create the colors; they were always there, hidden within the seemingly simple white light. Its power lay in its ability to reveal, to coax out the hidden spectrum and lay bare the intricate beauty that had been masked by uniformity. It was a testament to the idea that even the most ordinary things hold extraordinary potential, waiting for the right perspective, the right touch of light, to unveil their true, dazzling nature. And as the sun dipped lower, and the colors receded back into the prism's heart, a subtle luminescence lingered in the air, a reminder of the quiet magic that had unfold

ed.