Nothing is Clear

1

What an orange day... I thought. Warmer than yesterday- it was a bit more green, compared to today.

I tapped my fingers on my legs, trying to remember the second part of my cello concerto. Then I remembered:

A deep, purple-ish blue... Then it becomes greener... It suddenly becomes a bright red... Like the rain drops drumming the windows of a church...

As the melody became clearer, I repeated it until I completely memorised it. My exam was near.

I sat on a bench, watching the leaves swirl with the drunken wind. The sun was about to fall asleep, its rays crawling backwards as it went down.

I took my sketchbook out, staring blankly into the page. I had no idea about what I was going to draw, maybe I would study the anatomy of the hands.

The hands were hard to draw. They had a limitless set of poses, it was hard to draw them accurately- almost impossible without a reference.

I looked at my own hands. Tall, skinny, pale fingers hidden behind my coat. I did not dare to take them out, the wind was harsh towards my fragile skin.

I sighed, and a cloud of vapour came out of my mouth. I saw purples everywhere.

I closed my sketchbook, putting it back into my bag with fast movements. I had to capture the moment- I had to be quick.

I took my camera out. Whenever I felt unmotivated to draw, I would just take random photographs and then stare at them for hours... Until I felt inspired again.

I stood up, trying to find a good thing to take a photo of. Maybe a plant, an animal, or even a bin... Anything.

There it was- a tiny, single plant, trying to reach out against the biting cold. It's fragile body shivering with the every harsh breeze of November, trying to find a place to curl in... Just like Snow White.

I fell on my knees, rapidly taking my camera out. I focused on the periwinkle blue flower, made sure that the proportions were right and accurately following the golden ratio... I clicked and then-

Fa-Peem!

I fell backwards, rubbing my eyes. I could still see white flecks flashing in my eyes, starting to make me feel dizzy.

What was wrong- had I accidentally held the camera towards myself?

I finally opened my eyes. I leaned forwards to see better, blinking for a couple of times.

My vision became clearer- another lense of a camera, focusing on the tiny flower which was still shivering. Behind the camera, I saw a face hidden behind dark brown strings of hair.

The girl slowly moved the camera apart from her face. She looked rather horrified than confused, as if I were an alien.

The girl held her mouth, shaking her head. Every movement she made was too fast, I could see a dirty orange aura appearing from her.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't know that you were there! A-Are you okay though, have I damaged your retina?"

I wanted to say that everything was alright; however, I felt as if there was a ball rolling in my throat, no word came out of my lips.

I just gulped, wiping drops of tears away from my eyes. Wait- was I crying? Was I actually crying? What were those tears for, just an expression of a sudden horror? Probably because of the flash in my eyes.

As I blinked more, the white spots faded away from my eyes. Without being able to control my muscles, I rapidly scuttled backwards like a spider.

"Aaron?"

I stopped. How did she know my name? Was she someone I once knew?

I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed that I couldn't recognise her. I saw big red-orange waves hitting me on my face...

I tried to say something, even a single sound was enough... However, I wasn't even able to move my lips.

I suddenly felt black-purple strings whipping me fiercely on my back, slowly starting to strangle me. The strings were moving towards my throat... Embracing me...

I quickly stuffed my camera into my bag, running away with my shaky hands covering my ears. I pressed them hard into my head, as if I was trying to put my ears into my skull.

The strings were slowly going down, loosening and moving across my chest... Becoming looser and looser... Leaving my body...

I suddenly fell on my knees after running for a few blocks. I was the tiny flower now. I felt fragile, I felt lonely. I wanted to be shielded from the wind; the wind of mock, the wind of shame...

I was shivering, not because of the cold whipping my skin this time.

I was the tiny, lonely, fragile flower who needed help... Who needed a shield...