'"If I were too paint the sky, I would never get bored. That's because the sky is constantly changing it's beautiful colours."' Mr Oakley(Tom, an old man) sighed. He remembered Rachel, his beloved wife telling him about skies and colours. 'Why did Rachel have to go?' he thought, sadly. He'll never see her in the world again. Tom gently touched the faded colours on the old wall. Plaster was peeling off and it made an awful mess on the tatty floor. He tried to leave Rachel's room to be, let nature do the room good, but, too often found himself cleaning it.
But, Tom never repainted it. He never stayed out in his little garden to sit and gaze at the sky. No, that would be doing something that would easily remind him of Rachel's death. He would never talk or do something if it was connnected to Rachel's death. That day, 40 years ago, Rachel had carefully balanced a big pot of sky blue paint next to the clean hole in the ceiling that allowed her to climb down the ladder to get downstairs. What she didn't know, was that her cup of tea was beneath the pot of paint! The pot wobbled and it crashed onto her head! She immediatly lost her balance and fell from the ladder. Knowing that death was creeping to her head and heart, she smiled weakily and whispered, "To the garden. Please Tom." and she then let herself be carried to the garden. She took one last gaze at the beautiful sky and fell into a sleep she could never wake up from.
Eversince that day, Tom had always been upset. The old grandfather clock ticked in Tom's dark room. He walked silently towards the window to check that the blackouts were fixed firm, because war was breaking out, and then he lit the new candle and sat down on his wooden chair. The candlelight showed up a few things like the matted carpet with a woven dog bed in the middle and a cotton quilt draped carelessly over the straw mattress. It wasn't the most comfortable bed.
Tom picked up Rachel's tatty will and read it again, for the 5th time that day. It was Rachel's death day and his own birthday. 'Typical,', he thought, 'Rachel must hate me to want to die on my birthday,' though he knew that wasn't true, 'I'm 81 startin' now. Thas an awful old age for a man like me. Rachie's nearly 78.'. Tom smiled, and muttered to himself, "I won't do me no 'arm to sit out and look at the gorgeous sky for once." and walked slowly, with a woozy smile fixed on his face, towards the garden.
As he sat down, all kinds of thoughts about the sky whirled in his head. He gazed lovingly at the sky, suddenly feeling tired. 'I'm so sleepy. It wouldn't hurt to take 40 winks in the back yard.' he thought, slowly shutting his heavy eyelids. Just like that, he died of old age and a bit of broken heart, during the war, with a smile on his old wrinkly face.
Epilogue
In his dream, some angels carried him up to heaven. There, standing in front of him, was HIS angel, Rachel. Tears welled up in his eyes and, soon, they came streaming out. The cleaners saw the puddle and hurried over to mop it up. "Rachel!" he cried, wiping away his tears with the handkerchief Rachel lent him. He swept her into a ginormous hug and kissed her joyfully. "I hope this dream will never end!" he exclaimed, examining the new silk pyjamas that Rachel was wearing.
"It never will!" Rachel replied, smiling and rejoicing with him, "It's not a dream. I waited 40, nearly 41, years for you to come! Come along and paint the sky with me!" dragging him to pick a paint pot and then pulling him to a part of the sky where the paint was old. The two of them skipped of and, together, they painted a rainbow.
