It’s only November 5 and already my plan to write something every day isn’t going as great as I’d hoped. I’m just too tired when I get in and, as I’m writing this, sleepy. I hope this makes sense. I’ve tried to edit it for grammatical and punctuation errors to the best of my sleepy abilities.
This post is part of the Writing Myths post assignment I’ve given myself. This time, I have to —
Write a myth to explain why the sky is blue.
When the first artist ever born was young, he enjoyed spending his days splashing around in paint and making little scribbles about him in his mother’s garden. Whatever his paints touched took on that color permanently, which is why there are so many differently colored flowers, fruits, and vegetables in the world. The artist became more meticulous in his application in his teen years as he grew more serious about his work.
One day, as he sat working with a series of blue oil paint on his palette, there was a loud boom that shook the earth most fiercely. The tremor so upset his paints, that they slashed about their containers. One made such a huge splash that it splattered the sky above. Since the sky was always the color of the sun’s rays, the splattered paint gave it an odd polka-dot look, which the artist found unappealing, so he instead painted the sky in variations of blue and set it to alternate between the various blue tones according to time and weather. It was his greatest masterpiece and from then on, the sky was always blue.
As for the large boom, it so happened that the last coconut on the first great coconut tree had finally fallen.
Zezee with Books 