The World Without Colour

Chapter One

I craned my neck out the carriage Window as it jolted up and down along the cobbled drive way. All that could be heard was the clop of the horses hooves and the churn of weels.
I had gotten quite a headache over the hours of traveling in the cold carriage,I couldn't even imagine what mother would feel like!
She had been unwell for quite some time and it had become apparent both on her features and her wits.
Sometimes if I shut my eyes tight and really thought back, I could remember when the blue of her eyes shone bright and her face seemed full and plagued with freckles and smile lines. It had seemed like a lifetime ago.

Now, if I was to look at her, all I could see was a gaunt and hollow woman with dead and red rimmed eyes. She never smiled anymore, or rarely spoke for that matter and if she did it came out as a weak rasp.
Sometimes she would hold my hand in her brittle one. It scared me how paper thin her skin seemed and how the veins bulged out in an inhuman sort of way.

Of course she would have to pull it away when her coughing fits came on. Sometimes she would cough up blood and the doctor would have to come and see her.
She'd have to stay in bed for days and I never get the chance to see her. Even when I did it was only for short visits.
It wasn't fair on I or father for that matter.

He loved mother before she got sick. Now he can barely even look at her. Somewhere deep in my mind I know he's mourned her passing all ready. Her death was inevitable, even I, still only a young girl knew that. It was only a matter of time before she was taken from me.

A lump formed in my throat and I pushed the thoughts of death into the back of my mind. She is here with me now, I best not dwell in the past or wander to far into the future, I shall only think about the now, about the moment.

Back in London the doctor told us it was best we take mother out to the country side where the fresh air would help ease some of her chest pains and hopefully prolong the inevitable.
Father had an aunt who happened to own a countryside Manor who luckily agreed to acomidate us for a while. I had never met father's aunt but I do look forward to it all tough father did say she is not quite all there in the head. It's the maddest of people who are the kindest, I think.

I once had a friend back in London who was not well in the head, she could not speak properly, nor move without assistance. All the other children were afraid of her but I grew to understand she was a gentle creature who wouldn't hurt anyone.

Unfortunately she died of her sickness a couple of years later and I realised God only picks the best flowers in the garden and she, my special friend, was one of the most beautiful flowers.

Mother reaches out for my hand under her bundle of cloaks and blankets. I take her cold one into my small plump one and try to give her as much reassurance as possible. I cuddle my body into her side and bury my had into her chest, wishing I could just curl up in a feather bed and sleep for the rest of my life.
Sleep was almost like a wonderland of sorts, it helped me escape the woes of life and dream of better days that had passed and days to come.
I could alter these dreams to suit me, in my dreams I could make mother better and we would live happily ever after but when I wake up, I remember that not every fairy tale has a happy ending.

"I will get better, I promise" Mother rasps out. I could feel her chest heave and became aware of the energy it took her to speak.
I did not reply because I didn't want to back up her empty promises. Instead, I kept my head buried in her folds of clothes until the carriage came to a screeching halt.

Slowly, I borrow my way out of the folds of mothers clothes and look out the window. The sky was a cold grey, Colorless and depressing.
What were supposed to be green fields looked dead and damp, the recent snows melting around the blades of grass.
The cobbled driveway was slick with ice and everyone seemed to move at a snails pace so as not to slip and land on their bottom.