A old man is sitting down in a Victorian style living room, when his sons walk in. The first son ask his father, "Papa, what was your love life like?". He asks in hopes of hearing a story of his past. At the same time the second son asks his father, "Papa, you have been colourblind your whole life. How do you know what the colour red is?" He asked this because the man had different shades of beautiful reds in the Victorian styled room. All perfectly matching. The man being brought to the past of his mind begins his story of his love life.
The colour red is the colour I saw when I first saw her. She was as beautiful as anything I have ever seen. That's a lot considering I couldn't see colour. It's the colour of her cheeks when I asked her to prom that year we met. When I saw her it was the colour of her dress she wore.
When she whispered into my ears, it was the colour of her lips. It was the colour of our cheeks when we finished. It was the colour of the path, that lined her neck and all over her body. When she placed a hand over my heart it was the colour dripping off her finger tips.
It's the colour of my eyes, when I see her in the bedroom with another. It's the colour of my blood as it dripped from the broken vase. Threatening me to leave the shattered pieces. When I screamed at the top of my lungs, it's the colour of the atmosphere.
It's the colour that faded away when she left through the doors. Even though she cheated on me, I stilled loved her.
The father finishes. His sons long gone. Shooed off by a passing nurse.
"Finally, it's the colour it changes to black with my last breath."
The mans pulse slows to a stop.
YOU ARE READING
Short stories
RandomA bundle of short stories I had randomly thought of. The ideas original coming from post on facebook which from there was originally from tumblr. Credits to the MVPs that originally came up with the ideas.
