Close to Tears

Chapter 1

The color of the sky is something unexplainable. It may seem to be blue, toddlers grow up with the idea in their heads that the sky is blue, it was always blue, and it will always be blue. But if one was to map out the true colors of the sky, they would find that it would include millions of different colors all hidden in the folds of the sky. The transformation commences in the early hours of the morning, changing from black to dark blues and fading into oranges, reds, and yellows as the sun rises. It then takes on its common shade of bright blue, only starting to slowly darken after the clock hits noon and the sun is straight up in the sky. It then returns to the colors of the sunset.

When the sun has sheltered itself in the sanctuary of the mountains, a dark blue-purple color is left hanging in the sky. It is this color that is the most marvelous, the most remarkable, present in the sky's color palette. It is the color that represents mystery, one that opens the doors to many different journeys, one that is the start of many questions to be answered. It is the color that leaves us hoping, shows us that there can be beauty in the darkness. One that gives us the message that they light of day has not completely disappeared. One that makes us think the night is a beautiful place, with the stars hanging in the dark, mysterious, hue that paints the sky. Some refer to this color simply as a dark blue. But that would be too plain a name for such an incredible, daring, shade. Others refer to it as navy, closer but not quite portraying all the complexity that this color has to offer, with strands of purple woven in. The name that this color is most deserving of is the one we most often forget. It is the seventh color of the rainbow, the one that makes it so remarkable, so memorable, but often goes unnoticed. The one that we are taught in primary school, the important sixth letter of ROYGBIV, but that is often never included when listing out the colors. The color with the most beauty, the most depth, the most mystery, and the most soul of anything else on the spectrum.

Indigo.

Indie never thought of herself as someone overwhelmingly extraordinary. True, she was a creative, free-spirited soul, but she never found anything exceedingly unique about herself.

She was shy, and some might go as far as to label her as emotional beyond belief, or overly sensitive. But for a little while at least, she was strong.

Indie believed in magic. This is how she acquired most of her strength. She was incredibly inspired by the witches and wizards etched into her books, the power behind spells, and even the fairies that fly across the pages the little kids' books she had kept. This magic gave her wings and taught her how to fly. Every night, as the sky slowly crept into black and the stars came out from behind their homes in the clouds, Indie closed her eyes and let her dreams take her into this magical world of fantasy, where anything was possible.

She loved this world, the one midway between what is real and what one could only dream of. This world was a swirling abyss of color and light, where the words always seem to come but everything was indescribable all at once. There was something comforting about this world.

The glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling transformed into beautiful spheres of light, some shooting across the sky. The books on her shelves opened their pages and the covers became doors that she could open. The stories became places she could step into. The hums of her house at night turned into the soothing music of a flute, soaring brightly and calmly, and blending in with the clouds.

She could fly in this world. Her feet grazed the tops of the trees as she soared through the sky, the crisp, clear air blanketing her as she looked down upon the eternal beauty that was her world of fantasy.

Every day, Indie journeyed, step by joyful step, to the park at the edge of her neighborhood. Her lilac converse traveled one in front of the other as she strolled through the neighborhood past houses that all looked the same. The park was the one thing in the suburb that was different from any other place.