“Hi class, today I want you to draw whatever comes into your mind. It could be anything—dreams, pets, or anything else,” Mr. Razak announced, his smile wide and inviting.
“Whoever creates the most beautiful drawing will receive a special prize!” he added, his enthusiasm evident.
The classroom erupted with excitement. Students scrambled to gather their drawing tools—watercolors, crayons, colored pencils—hoping their artistic creations would win the coveted prize. Aidan, however, looked at his simple setup: a pencil and a plain A3-sized piece of paper. Despite Herman's taunts, "Hahah, you’re going to lose, Aidan. Look at me—I’m using watercolors," Aidan focused intently on his drawing, determined not to let the lack of fancy tools hinder his efforts.
Sarafina, sitting at her desk, was busily working on her drawing. She had decided to draw her pet rabbit, Rainbow. Mr. Razak approached her desk, his curiosity piqued.
“What are you drawing, Sarafina?” he asked.
“Oh, this is my pet rabbit, Rainbow,” Sarafina said, smiling proudly as she showed her drawing. However, Mr. Razak almost burst out laughing when he saw her drawing. It barely resembled a rabbit, looking more like a squiggly blob than any identifiable form.
Mr. Razak continued to check each student’s artwork until he stopped at Aidan’s desk. He looked at the drawing that Aidan had created—a man with realistic features, wings, and a spear. Mr. Razak’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“You drew this, Aidan?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine interest.
Aidan nodded, feeling a surge of pride. Herman, who had earlier dismissed Aidan’s chances, now stared at the drawing with amazement. “Wow, Aidan, it’s really beautiful. It looks like a real person!” Herman exclaimed.
“Exactly, Herman. It looks very lifelike,” Mr. Razak agreed, a broad smile spreading across his face. He continued to examine the rest of the artwork, his expressions ranging from thoughtful contemplation to impressed smiles.
After a thorough review, Mr. Razak addressed the class. “I have seen all your drawings. Let’s give a big round of applause for everyone’s hard work.”
The room filled with applause as Mr. Razak’s hands clapped rhythmically. “Now, as promised, there will be a winner. Take a guess, who do you think it is?”
“AIDAN, SIR!” the class shouted in unison, their excitement palpable.
Mr. Razak’s smile widened. “That’s right! Congratulations, Aidan. Please see me in the teacher’s room after school to collect your prize.”
Aidan’s heart raced with excitement. For the first time in his life, he had won something. He could hardly wait to receive the gift.
---
When the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Aidan quickly packed his things and hurried to the teacher’s room. His excitement was palpable as he looked around for Mr. Razak’s desk but couldn’t find it immediately.
A female teacher sitting at her desk looked up and smiled at him. “Assalamualaikum, teacher. Can you tell me where Mr. Razak’s desk is?”
The teacher pointed towards a room. “Mr. Razak’s desk is in that room.”
“Thank you!” Aidan said, nodding gratefully. He made his way to the indicated room, only to find it empty. A surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety coursed through him. He leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Mr. Razak to arrive.
Less than five minutes later, Mr. Razak appeared. Seeing Aidan, he hurried over to his room. “I’m sorry for being late, Aidan. Have you been waiting long?” he asked, concern in his voice.
Aidan shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve just been waiting.”
Mr. Razak smiled warmly and motioned for Aidan to enter. “Please, have a seat,” he offered, though Aidan chose to stand.
Mr. Razak opened his desk drawer and retrieved a package. “You must be excited about this gift,” he said, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.
Aidan’s excitement grew as he watched Mr. Razak pull out the package. He tried to keep his expectations modest, but his curiosity was overwhelming.
“Well, congratulations, Aidan,” Mr. Razak said, handing the package to Aidan.
Aidan carefully opened it, revealing a high-quality painting brush. His eyes widened in amazement. “Wow... this is amazing. Thank you, sir. I’ve wanted a brush like this for a long time. I really appreciate it,” Aidan said, his voice filled with genuine excitement. He examined the brush closely, admiring its fine bristles and the fresh, pleasant smell of new paint.
“You’re welcome, Aidan,” Mr. Razak replied, his smile broadening.
Aidan carefully placed the brush back into its package, thanked Mr. Razak once more, and said goodbye. He left the teacher’s room, eager to get home and try out his new brush.
---
When Aidan arrived home, his excitement was barely containable. He admired the brush, feeling a sense of wonder and anticipation. Despite his mother’s strict warning against drawing, Aidan was determined to explore the brush’s potential.
He took out his notebook and opened a blank page. Although he didn’t have any paint, his curiosity led him to simulate using the brush. As he moved the brush over the page, something extraordinary happened—the brush began to release its own ink. Aidan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “This brush doesn’t need paint?” he whispered.
Eager to test its capabilities further, Aidan decided to draw a butterfly. He meticulously painted a Monarch butterfly, his favorite. Within minutes, the butterfly took shape on the page. The ink flowed smoothly, and Aidan felt a profound sense of satisfaction as he watched his creation come to life.
Holding the brush and admiring his work, Aidan rested his head on the desk, mesmerized by the magical brush. He wondered if Mr. Razak knew about its enchanting properties or if it was a mystery even to him.
Suddenly, Aidan felt something touch his hair. He was startled, fearing it could be a bug. As he looked up, he was astonished to see a beautiful butterfly fluttering gracefully in front of him.
“Where did this butterfly come from? Did it get lost?” Aidan wondered aloud. He checked the window and door, confirming they were securely shut, ruling out any possibility of the butterfly entering through them.
The butterfly landed gently on Aidan’s hand. It was a Monarch butterfly, identical to the one he had just drawn. He looked back at his notebook and gasped. The butterfly he had drawn was now missing from the page. The real butterfly seemed to have emerged from his drawing.
“This isn’t happening!” Aidan exclaimed in awe.
To test further, Aidan drew another butterfly on his notebook. He watched in amazement as the new butterfly began to move, flapping its wings. It fluttered off the page and landed on Aidan’s bookshelf.
“WOW!!!” Aidan shouted, his excitement reaching new heights. The brush had truly transformed his art into reality. It was like living in a magical fairy tale.
Suddenly, Aidan heard the doorknob turning, and his mother stormed into the room, her face flushed with irritation. “Why are you making so much noise?” she demanded, clearly annoyed by the disturbance.
Aidan scrambled to hide the brush, tossing it into his backpack. He tried to act nonchalant, but his heart was pounding. “I was just—”
Before he could finish, his mother’s sharp gaze landed on the brush that had slipped from his grasp and fallen to the floor. “Are you painting again? I told you I don’t want you drawing!” she exclaimed, moving swiftly toward the brush.
Aidan quickly stepped on the brush to protect it and grabbed it back. “But Mom, my teacher gave me this brush as a prize for winning a competition in class,” he pleaded.
“I don’t care! Give me that brush. I don’t want you drawing anymore,” his mother insisted, her frustration evident.
Aidan struggled to hold onto the brush, trying to prevent her from taking it away. “It doesn’t bring any profit to us. We will live a miserable life if you continue drawing. I want you to be a doctor so that we can live comfortably, not in poverty!” she said vehemently.
Despite Aidan’s resistance, his mother’s hand found its mark on his ear, pinching it painfully. The sound of her angry reprimand echoed through the room.
“Sorry, Mom! Sorry... Okay, tomorrow I’ll return this brush to my teacher,” Aidan said, his voice trembling with pain.
His mother’s anger seemed to subside slightly. She stopped her harsh grip but remained stern. “I don’t want to see that brush in this house tomorrow. UNDERSTAND?”
Aidan nodded weakly, feeling a mix of sadness and resignation. His mother walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Aidan rubbed his sore ear and sat at his desk, feeling a profound sense of loss. He looked at the magical brush, now a symbol of conflict and disappointment. He placed it back into his backpack, feeling a deep sadness as he prepared for bed.
“What a shame,” Aidan whispered to himself. “We’re not meant to be.” With a heavy heart, he lay down in bed, the magical brush now a bittersweet reminder of what could have been