"Oh you're time is up, darling raise your cup
And take your bow, do it graceful now"-Melody Thornton
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Flashes of bright light erupted from the camera, capturing the scene she had been so keen on doing. The party was just about to start. Her eyes focused on the image on the small screen, carefully taking in every detail of the image of the lanterns lit, yet not yet released. Her fingers traced the buttons of the camera, circling around the various bumps of the metallic creation. It was like a thousand sensations at once, yet it almost instantly receded. Cheering and laughter were around her, yet she kept perfectly still, analyzing each aspect of the picture. She then drew a finger over the button with a trash bin imposed on it.
'Are you going to delete that one?' She heard a shrill voice from behind. She looked around and saw what seemed to be a Greek sculpture. A familiar pair of eyes met her gaze. She felt her lips curling into a smile. If she could scream colors, she would have done it by now.
'Ella! Remember me?' It was Michael. It was as if the world stopped for a bit. Here he was, becoming several sizes larger than life as he approached. He commanded every last shred of tints in the world. He was Technicolor amidst all the grays. He was being himself, just Michael. She blurted out a pink bubble, signaling a yes. Like a lightning bolt, she felt her legs zooming towards the picture. The artist in her wants to capture this scene and then recapture it again forever. She was dripping in magenta, and passion and persistence. She wrapped her arms around the image, framing it with her mind. There he was; an azure blinding brilliance. She then subtly untangled her arms off him, he felt too hot to touch.
'Let me take a look at what you've taken!' his words were wrapped in the verdant greens, ever so soft and gentle. His brows furrowed at the image she would have deleted if it were not for him to arrive spot on. They were only separated by a year yet his calm demeanor made him leagues higher in maturity. He studied the image a bit more and then finally smiled. You've had become way too good, if I say so myself. You could have played a bit with straightening it, but otherwise it's okay.' His words faded into the indigo skies yet tickled her skin at each syllable mentioned. She wanted to burst into canary sparks, but she didn't.
He went on again and again on a litany on how to take pictures properly. Her eyes shifted, focusing on him as the sole subject against a very busy backdrop. He was wrapped in gold and purple, offsetting his perfect stature and regal looks. She kept glancing to the face she could perfectly imagine were made from the stars. He was fantasy and reality warped into one.
'Michael! Over here!' They stopped and quickly looked towards where the voice came from. An image of a very glamorous lady entered the picture she was quietly creating. She's an outsider, peaceful maybe, but not a color fit in her palette. Unwanted;
She went forward slowly; it was like she heaved black through each dragging step she took. It was ruining the picture, bit by bit. 'Alaina! Good to see you! I've been waiting for you' Michael answered. Ella felt a dozen brazen shades of crimson starting to burn around her. She was fuming, yet she had to be still. She could feel the new girl, staring curiously at her. She wanted to send a myriad of thunderbolt sensations at the girl but she couldn't. 'Who is she, Mikey?' Alaina asked Michael, giggly at once while tracing the bridge of his nose. Michael then hugged her a bit before he answered. By then she knew, she was the peculiar piece on the picture she had very much strived to create. She felt her colors subsiding, falling, dripping fathoms bellow. He was neither an individual; nor she but together, they form a "they". They asked her to take a picture of them, Ella tried her earnest to make it perfect this time. She did. She had captured the best picture she could've taken. The image of two lovers against the starlit and lantern shrouded mystery of the night. The image screamed of passion, of glamour, of joy and of sincerity. '
'Wow, you're really good! Tell me how to take pictures as good as this!' Alaina exclaimed, waiting for an answer.
'Ah, babe she couldn't.. Ella couldn't.' Michael tried to reason. Alaina felt shocked and tried to say sorry.
But it was already too late. Ella knew. When speech and sound have evaded her throughout the years, All she could do was speak in colors through photos and art. She opened her lips but closed it again, foolish to try when she knows she can never produce a sound at all. She turned away, and for the first time, she ran.Yet it was too late.
She was but a smoking gun.
