Colour My Shadow

Chapter Seven - Detail

Wattpad was down on one af the few days I could actually write!

Annoying stuff, but I still managed to get a chapter together  :)

And here it is. 

I still like Steven, I'm sure. Or do I? Every time I think 'I do,' I'm sure, but then when I think about it more, it's almost like it's changed. He still has the same effect on me when I'm with him, but when I'm not, I don't think about him at all, no wishful 'I hope,' or 'what if?'s. 

I think I still like Steven. But I don't know. 

Rosa xx

So, I'd taken Storm's hand, told him that yes, I was with him, the dramatic music had reached its high point, and Storm was still trying to get the thing he wanted to show me together. 

I'd resorted to going back to the homework while waiting, which didn't really help with the whole not-getting-bored idea. 

He was sat in the seat opposite me, holding something in his hands, and concentrating hard on that, moving them apart and together again almost as if he were kneading something. I'd watched him curiously for a bit, but he'd made sure I couldn't see a thing. 

I was about to ask him what he was doing, for the millionth time, when he looked up at me, and grinned. Holding whatever-it-was in one hand, so I couldn't see it, he wrote carefully, close your eyes, and hold out your hands. 

I did so, getting more excited now that I was going to actually know what this sercrecy was about, but was not really expecting what he gave me. 

It felt like a ball of playdough, squishy but warm, and very, very light. It tingled my palms when I touched it, and I didn't open my eyes for a bit, enjoying the feel of the playdough, if that's what it was. 

A voice, startlingly close to my ear, said quietly, "You can open your eyes now,", and I jumped, automatically looking around for Aidan, who I presumed was the speaker.

The first thing I noticed was that I couldn't see Storm, and the speaker was a young boy, about my age, and completely black and white - "Holy hell!" I blurted, "Storm?" 

The boy laughed, nodding, and, looking around me, I realised we'd moved; we weren't in my small kitchen anymore, but a spacious living room.

A living room that was completely grey. 

I spun slowly round, eyes round and wondering. Wherever we were, it was devoid of colour, completely black-and-white - save for me. I turned back round to Storm - if he actually was Storm - momentarily forgetting the ball I was holding. It began to slip, but he caught it, pressing it into my hand. 

There was so much wonder around me, I didn't know where to begin. 

"Careful," Storm laughed, still pressing the whatever-it-was into my palm. "if you want to stay here, you have to keep on holding it." 

I nodded, squeezing it, "But what is it? And where is here?" 

He looked down at the thing I was holding, and I looked at it properly for the first time. My first thought was, 'It's blue.', but, once I'd thought it, it changed.

Not subtly, like from blue to a turqoise yellow, but to a bright pink; and as soon as I acknowledged that, it changed again - my head began to hurt trying to keep up with it. Along with myself, it was the only colourful thing here. 

And then Storm!

We were stood closer now, both of us inspecting the not-blue-not-pink ball, and, looking up, I could now tell it really was him. The shape of his head, his height, the way he stood; they were all just the same as I remembered, only now, I could see the detail.