PHASE 0: AUDITIONS

Applicant #41: Remnants of Hue

APPLICANTS #41: REMNANTS OF HUE

Once upon a time, in a hidden village on the middle of a thick forest, there was a little girl named Conchita.
One sunny morning, she was smiling while sitting on a rock under the shade of a tree. She was watching the other kids who were running and running and playing. She giggled at the thought of imagining the boisterous laughter of her playmates. After all, Conchita never considered the world as a "quiet world".
The smell of hay was wafting through the air. The dazzling splash of orange glows filled the place, and the atmosphere was visibly vibrant and energetic. It was harvest time in Tribo Kapulo.
"Sasali ka sa amin? Kata!" Conchita observed the movement of lips of her playmate. After a few seconds, she shook her head and smiled.
"Yanong pihikan man din?" asked her playmate. She just nodded her head.
Her playmate started walking away. Conchita noticed the fading orange luminance of her playmate. Somehow, she felt guilty.
Time came and went. Colors sprouted and faded. The little girl could see its light and dark shades. Sometimes it was in between.
One night, when every member of her family was sleeping, she was still outside. She was lying on the moist grasses where they used to play tumbang-preso and luksong-baka. She could barely see the gleam of stars as she wiped the pouring raindrops from her bluish eyes clearer than the tranquil summer sky and colder than the winter moon. Her pair of stars were so special, for those were gifted a keen discernment of colors. Yellow, orange, red, green, gray or blue-she was seeing these sometimes in a variation of light or dark shades-but most of the time in a vibrant hue. This seemed ordinary but it was not.
As she had slowly closed those eyes of hers, tears welled down her pinkish cheeks. Like a thrown pebble in a still water that created a ripple, pensive thoughts which were formed in the vividness of her memory suddenly flashed back, and that disturbance in water sent a splash of melancholic reminiscence.
She was awoken when the air smelled different that morning. Moreover, it was quite peculiar as she had observed that violet and black were mixing in the common spectrum of light colors. Red was also evident.
Her forehead wrinkled. The two former colors were new to her eyes, and it was then that she realized how strangely she had sensed something that morning.
So she went outside their nipa hut. Panic filled her pulse upon seeing unfamiliar faces of people far different from their way of clothing.
They were holding papers and looked like demanding or opposing something against their elders.
What had made her heart skipped a beat were the foreign people's aura-dark violet and black.
Meanwhile, while holding bamboo spears and aiming it at the foreign people, their tribesmen radiated deep red colors. The crimson flares were also unusual to her sight; anger was present in their eyes. Who would ever have thought that she was able to perceive the personality or emotions of a person by looking into its aura being reflected?
"Yamang dito kami sumibol, dito rin kami yayao! Ang lupang ito ay sa amin, kaloob ng diyos na mahabagin!"
She wandered her eyes. 'Nana? Baba? Nasa'n po kayo?' she thought to herself. Someone grabbed her arm and took her away from the crowd. It was her mother-her loving and caring mother. Conchita's eyes displayed a picturesque solace upon recognizing her mother who was giving off a beam of green incadescence.
Conchita opened her eyes and gazed above. The thick, grayish clouds could be seen, as the fragments of the moon hanging in the middle of heaven illuminated the entire sky.
The cool breeze brushed through her soft skin and sent chill down to her spine. It was getting late so she decided finally to go inside and sleep.
The members of her family were giving off a light shade of blue. They were as tranquil as the clear, blue sky kissing the deep blue sea.
Conchita heaved. How she wished that the foreign people were not bound to come back again so as to restore the peaceful land they once had. Hope was her last resort. She hoped because she had a genuine love for her parents and for her tribesmen.
So she slept. A glowing, bright yellow illuminated from her body.
"Apoy! Apoy! Tulong! Kabaro-apoy!" The deafening screams of agony woke Conchita up. Dark and thickk smokes filled the air. Her breathing was getting heavier and heavier.
"Nana, Baba-Bunsoy!" she shouted. Hurriedly, she ran to the exit of their nipa hut. She saw her tribesmen running in different directions, trying to save their lives.
"Nana? Baba? Bunsoy?" Conchita had been crying and crying as she wandered her distressed eyes.
Out of the blue, a loud gunshot echoed throughout the whole place. Pain-a sharp, burning sensation pierced Conchita's chest. Dramatic was her fall as she eventually tumbled upon the ground. For the last time, she slowly raised both of her arms toward the flickering stars. Before her eyes went shut, she had seen the shine coming from her hands and all over her body-the purest white her eyes had ever laid on.
And that was the story of a little girl who looked at life in a colorful and bright point of view. Little she did know, she had left the remnants of her hue.