The Color of Eleanor

I. The Black-and-White Woman

The woman lived in a decrepit house at the edge of town. The area around it was bleeding from suburban to forested. There were other houses on the road, but there was a clear difference between those houses and the one that belonged to this woman. Her home was void of color. Black, white, and gray were the only hues that could be found on the chipped siding of the walls and the crusty chimney. A black arch sat at the end of the yard, with a gray stone path that led up to the door and snaked through a lawn of pale grass.

Carol parked her van next to the jet black car in the bumpy driveway. Carol stepped out and made her way up the path to the front door, which towered over her and made the entrance look like that of a prison. Even the whites on the house were quite dull in comparison to Carol's pristine white t-shirt. She knocked on the door, her bracelets jingling. She was met with silence. She knocked again, this time harder.

"Hello? Eleanor?" she called. Still no response. She pushed against the door, causing it to open with a long shrill creak. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The main room had an extremely high ceiling, with a long rug that led to a staircase in the room's center that led to an indoor balcony, from which there were hallways and doors that led farther back into the house. Against the back wall on either side of the staircase were doorways that led into more rooms. On the left of the spacious main room was a circular rug with a television set on one side and a couch on the other, and a coffee table between them. On the right of the room was a workspace consisting of a desk, a lamp, a stool, and an easel. Brushes, tools, and tubes of paint were scattered about the desk. A large canvas was set on the easel, with one side of it painted in dull grays and the other left blank and unfinished. The large room was lit by a dull chandelier that hung from the ceiling, as well as the tall open windows that cast sharp rays of sunlight into the room. Clouds of wandering dust particles were highlighted in the rays. A few framed photographs were hung on the walls, and small vases and stiff plants sat atop shelves along the edges of the room.

Carol slowly ventured into the room, the floorboards creaking under her feet. "Eleanor?" she called out, peering into the dark doorways on the far side of the room. She made her way up the stairs, watching her step as the boards sagged beneath her. She dragged her hands along the railing, but after seeing all the dust collecting on her finger pads, she brushed it off and kept her hands by her sides. Reaching the peak, she crept down the dim hallway ahead, which was lit by a flickering bulb on the ceiling and the pale sunlight from the end of the hall. She ducked her head under cobwebs that dangled from the ceiling. She stopped at a door on the left and placed her hands on it. She could hear muffled music with a scratchy overtone coming from inside. "Eleanor, are you in here?" Carol asked. "Can I come in?" After a moment, the music stopped. There was then a brief creaking sound followed by clicking sounds that gradually loudened. Carol stepped back as the door slowly opened.

Standing in the doorway was a tall woman of black and white. She had long black hair with bangs that completely veiled her eyes in long, draping curls. What part of her face could be seen was totally expressionless, accompanied by sharp facial features, pale skin, and sharp black lipstick and nails. She wore a white shirt and leggings, with a black vest and skirt over them. Her appearance was complemented by her black high heels that added to her youthful slenderness and her towering intimidation.

"Oh, hello Eleanor," Carol said, smiling. "I figured you were in your room."

Eleanor simply nodded.

"It's a beautiful day outside. Hasn't been like this a while, huh?"

Eleanor nodded.

Carol smiled. "Eleanor, I'd like to talk about something with you, if you don't mind," Carol continued. "It's about the foster home." Eleanor was silent for a moment. Carol waited for a response.