The World Without Colour

Chapter Two

Days had turned into weeks, weeks had turned into months and with the passing time, the snows had melted and the lambs were born.
  Mother had become deathly ill during the winter months, her bones ached and seized; she could scarcely move. Her room was downstairs, making it easier for her to be transported about the house. Her favourite room was the conservatory. The large and clear windows meant she could see outside, she could catch a glimpse of the world without putting her body through the pain. Often she would just sit there motionless, cold grey eyes watching the almost still world just outside that thin glass pain, surrounded by musty books and moth eating furniture.

She managed to smile on Christmas day, it uplifted everyone in the household somewhat. A spark of hope engulfed my senses and truly made me believe she would get better.

Fortunately, as the Winter months had passed and warmer days came to dwell mother had gotten somewhat better.
  She had gotten a slight glow on her skin but her eyes remained dead.

Father kept busy by taking business trips around the world. He had visited many places and always brought me back beautiful gifts. But his gifts could never make up for the time he was missing with me, not even the promise of mother becoming her old self again.
 
His old Aunt was rarely round as well, she was always in her recreational room, painting pictures. She never allowed me in there, she said it was to dangerous and the fumes of all the different paints would get to my head. Maybe that's what made her slightly crazy, all though none of us ever voiced our thoughts aloud.

One time she had left the door slightly ajar and I gave into temptation. I peeked through the crack and frowned at the almost empty room, save for the large table and the easel that sat in the centre of the room. A painting still sat on the easel easel, half finished.
  It was all in black and white, with hues of grey. The painting seemed devoid of any colour. Upon further inspection I found the painting to be of a sullen and gaunt looking boy.
 
  Was this boy from her imagination or was there a deeper story to tell? You could tell a lot about a person by their eyes but when I searched this boys eyes for answers it seemed as if I was staring right back at my self.
  I had heard approaching footsteps and scurried to my room where I tried to replicate the drawings of the boy but there was something just not right. I could not capture the air of mystery around this boy and his colorless air.

As we began to settle in the old country Manor, I began to discover a new feeling, loneliness. There were no children my age around the Manor resulting in me having to rest with my own company. It was not the same as having a friend, I could not have someone else's opinion or glimpse a view from their eyes. If I tried to talk to any of the adults they'd laugh and muss my hair before walking off. The shy maid merely nodded when I tried to talk to her.
 
More oft then not I'd find my self wondering aimlessly down the halls of the old manor, humming melodies under my breath or having unrealistic conversations in my mind.

Today was no exception to my aimless wanderings. All the hallways and rooms looked more or less the same to me so I'd generally lose my way around the house but on this day I knew where I was going. I knew what I wanted to see, I wanted questions answered.
 
I found my self looking at the same wooden door of Fathers' Aunts recreation room. It was easy to tell the difference as speckles of paint dotted the brass knob.
  I chewed the inside of my lip for a moment before I slowly reached out and grasped the knob. An excess amount of saliva had gathered in my mouth and I swallowed it down before a lump formed in my throat.
  I cautiously opened the door slightly, wincing at the creak of the hinges. I peeked inside to make sure the mad woman wasn't in there. Relief washed over me as I found the room empty.
  I slipped inside and shut the door behind me as quietly as possible.

The painting of the boy sat on an easel, his strange eyes baring straight into mine. It sent shivers down my spine. Everything about him seemed unrealistic, save for his eyes.
  Colorless yet alive. They stood out from the rest of his surroundings, glowing in the black background.