In the beginning nothing much was made of it. Aside from the obvious downsides, art classes soon became obsolete, new talent ceased to emerge and the streets became lined with homeless art teachers. Other than that we learned to live with it. It made us stronger as our once fractured population could now come together under a single banner. It brought harmony and tolerance where both had lacked. Violence between countries, religious wars and terrorism ceased to be. The world united under the ‘Great Drawing’.

            Numerous theories were put forward. Many believed it to be a social media phenomenon. Even children who had never bothered with drawing had taken to it. Every child, worldwide, produced that same image. The globe suspended in the darkness of space with a pitchfork beneath it. Threatening yes, inexplicable certainly, but nonetheless comforting, as our planet seemed impenetrable. Humankind drew strength from its children and their drawings. Not one, ever, depicted that pitchfork in motion. The world was safe.

            Out of the blue everything changed and was turned on its head. A young girl drew a Rabbit. Instantly the ears of the world pricked up to listen, the eyes of the world nervously sought out the reason. Notoriety became hers. Many religious folk heralded the event as the second coming of Christ. There was uproar and chaos. Groups splintered from each other, forming sects hell-bent on projecting their theory upon the world. Questioning theories often led to death. Mankind returned to its gullible, terrifying former self.

            Pandemonium ensued. The children took refuge from the carnage. They simply disappeared. Adults who noticed the vanishing of their offspring went looking. Anxious, mad. Off guard, unarmed, many lives were lost during the search. The children remained elusive, gone without a trace. Entire nations became battlegrounds as fighting erupted from within. Larger, more vicious sects gathered armies and crossed borders, killing all before them, burning all they vanquished to ashes in their wake.

            The years went by, six maybe seven. Mankind imploded; control of that little girl became the sole goal. Ruthless groups claimed her as both their property and leader. But she had slipped through the cracks. Busily set on destruction, people had allowed the catalyst to vanish.

            When the moment came to reclaim the streets, we arose from undetected voids. We are no longer children. We are adults. In this instant, we are changing the guard, and the rest of mankind. I was one who had taken to life underground, I too had drawn the ‘Great Drawing’ and I had been chosen to be the catalyst. It was nothing more than an instruction hidden in the untapped depths of social media. Some of the theorists had been correct but it was too late. I was recognised as the Rabbit girl, a hero. My first address to the world was a simple one. Broadcast to the world I stood behind an easel and drew the globe again. This time it was free. Nothing but space lay beneath.