Color

Chapter #1: Charcoal

I arrived into the world of the wakeful abruptly. I tried to close in on the dream that had woken me so rudely but it escaped my mind's groggy attempts effortlessly. A sigh escaped my lips, and the back of my head fell back against the white feather pillow easily, yet my eyes remained open hoping against hope for some miracle as I stared at the gray ceiling fan my parents told me was brown. It rotated ceaselessly, unaffected by the intensity of my stare, still remaining as ashy as it had always been. I assumed dawn hadn't come yet since my alarm clock flashed a snow white '4:28' at me, and the sky's normal gray seemed a bit darker than it would in daylight.

The spring bed groaned as I tumbled to the floor, furious at having to start my day without remembering the dream. It felt vaguely familiar, and happy, but beyond that I couldn't remember. Somehow my fumbling fingers found my door handle and I stumbled out of my room into the dimly lit hallway.

I despised this hallway, but no more than the rest of the house. My parents had moved here looking for "A change of scenery," and while I couldn't admit it wasn't a change, I never thought it a good one. For starters, I liked our old place. It was quiet, tucked away in the heat of Arizona. The constant lack of color never bothered me there, most everything was gray or faded anyways, but here my parents constantly reminded me of what I was missing out on. Their eyes would glaze over as they stared off at sunsets, flowers, trees, their hands locked together tight to see for as long as possible. Whenever they did this it was like they were in a totally different world, oblivious to me or the surroundings and nothing pissed me off nearly so much as that. Regardless of it being unintentional, I couldn't help but feel hurt. I had never seen any color besides different shades of gray and white. Almost worse than this, was having to meet new people at school. Just like my school back in Arizona, soppy couples held hands every moment humanly possible, be it through the hallways, in class under a desk, or even at the goddamn lunch table. It was unbelievable, were colors so important to people that they had to know if the food they were shoveling in was green or blue?

Thoughts like these plagued me often, especially when I was angry. Anger fed my discontent, which in turn fed my anger, which made for a nasty, rather depressing cycle. All this raced through my head as I made for the stairs and clutched the steely gray, wooden handrail to the bottom of the steps. I wandered into the kitchen, still barely comprehending my surroundings or what I was doing. A bowl of cereal would work well enough to kick off the first day of school, I figured, and ate it slowly, stretching out the time as I slowly came more and more awake. My parents alarm went off, loud enough to blast my eardrums from the other half of the house. They were deep sleepers.

The mantle clock over our fireplace read '5:04' before my dad finally made an appearance in the doorway of the master bedroom, blearily rubbing his eyes as he tried to focus on me, halfway through my third bowl of cereal.

"Bit early for you isn't it, Haiden?" He asked, fighting through a monster yawn.

"I had a weird dream, couldn't sleep through it." I replied dipping the spoon in the bowl for another mouthful of charcoal colored chocolatey spheres.