Warren smiled at the caretaker, who was currently cleaning with grace and great efficiency. He then glanced back at his still opened front door and grinned even wider. Normally, this would be the part of the day where Warren would wander into town, desperately looking for a source of inspiration. Today, however, was completely different.
Warren now had a mission, and a daunting one at that. A whole city of art. Warren smiled at himself. Though it seemed impossible, he could see it in his mind's eye. But first, Warren had to find the art. He then grabbed his wallet and staff, then headed out of his apartment building, eagerly glancing around for the next piece of art to be freed from its flesh and blood restraints.
It was then that he spotted her. Walking down the sidewalk a few feet in front of himself was an older black woman. Warren smiled once more. A few steps out of his house and he'd already found something beautiful? Today was a good day, it seemed. Warren then pointed his staff at the woman and let the magic do its work.
The older black woman glanced at her hands and sighed. Her hands were not those of a delicate maiden as they had been in her youth. No, they were the rough, calloused hands of someone who had to struggle to survive. In this rough world, she was alone, but she didn't mind. She had more important things to worry about, like getting food to keep herself fed or finding shelter for the night. The woman sighed again. At least she didn't have any burdens holding her down.
As Warren willed it to, the scepter began secrete a grayish powder. The powder seemed to float in the wind, winding its way towards the woman like a snake. The dust began to gather on the woman's skin, slowly but surely encapsulating her in a cloud of dust.
The woman began to change, though she herself didn't realize it. She was still caught up in her thoughts, now trying to remember something. There was something important that she was forgetting, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was. As she scratched her head in confusion, the wrinkles on her face and skin began to disappear. Her once gray-streaked hair regained its original luster and her clothes disappeared, revealing that her skin had cleared up, leaving it bereft of any and all blemishes.
The woman paused and frowned heavily. Whatever she was forgetting, it was something big. Yet she still couldn't place her tongue on it. At this point, the cloud of gray dust had completely obscured the woman's nude body from Warren's view. Inside of the cloud, the woman's form seemed to swell. It wasn't that she was getting fatter; it was that she was getting buffer. The woman glanced down at herself and frowned. Unlike she was a few seconds ago, she was now extremely fit. Her body was in peak of physical perfection, her form chiseled, built, and shapely in every definition of the word.
Wait, that was it! Chiseled! The woman sighed in relief. She wasn't a woman at all; she was a stone sculpture, a work of art! The woman then stepped onto the marble plynth that had appeared in front of her and assumed a pose, taking a knee as she proudly thrust her chest out to the world. The sculpture frowned again as she moved her arms into the air. She still felt like she was forgetting something. Suddenly, a huge globe appeared in the sculpture's hand, her outstretched arms bearing its full weight with ease.
"Yes, that's right," the sculpture thought as her body turned into a beautiful silver-colored marble, "My burden is to carry the world above me." Warren walked up next to his newest creation and gave her a satisfied smile. "You," he began, "Are named The Burden of Altlas." "Oh, Creator, I already knew that," The Burden of Atlas responded, "For you named me that since before you carved me out the chunk of marble that I once was.
Warren nodded happily, then continued his stroll down the road. Who, or rather what, would be the next masterpiece made?