Colors

Prologue

     It's a warm summer day when they come. 

     One of those blue-skied, lightly cloudy and lots of sun summer days; the wind is blowing ever so proudly, and the flag, high up above the house, cuts through the pleasant air with quiet whipping noises and rattlings of a clip, bound to it's pole.

     She knew they would come, she had told her husband so. "You mind me now, Rich," She had said with a tremble in her voice the day the child had arrived, holding the quiet infant securely to her breast. "They'll come for her, just like they did with that poor woman's baby boy."

     "No," He had coo'd, his palm cupping his newborn child's fatty cheek. "Nobody will know. We will keep her hidden. They won't come."

     That had been nearly four months ago though. He had been wrong though. Of course he was, she knew he would be. They needn't tell anyone for word to get out. They always heard, may it be by word of mouth or other, less agreed upon ways that she wished not to think about.

     It is nearly May when the van comes bumping down their old gravel driveway. It is a tan color: not at all the black she has always affiliated government vehicles with. Then again, she is not sure these people are government. She does not know who they are, only that they are very dangerous, and that they always receive what they wish for.

     Today, they're coming for her infant. The baby that sleeps in her arms, wrapped in tight blankets, suckling on her thumb as newborns do. Today, they are coming for her family, her only child, her blessed baby girl.

     Her baby girl with the bright purple-blue eyes and a thin but present patch of matching hair.

     They do not knock, as they have already been greeted by Richard. Her sweet-natured blond husband, his hands clasped together, pleaded words spilling from his mouth. From the room upstairs, enclosed behind shut panes of glass, she cannot hear the begs he cries. She has pleas of her own formulating in her head, whispering them to herself, to her god.

     She does not turn from the window as they approach the room she stands within, she does not move as they murmur their speech about regulations and the safety of the people. She does not listen, too focused on the child waking in her arms.

     The infant coos, a soft baby noise that sounds more like a gurgle than anything else. A moment later the baby opens it's eyes, bright colors like none other she has ever seen in nature. They focus on her face, and the baby giggles again, reaching a half cupped hand towards it's mother's face. 

     Public safety, she scoffs to herself, the men slowly entering the room behind her. My baby girl? A danger to society? Never.

     She pulls the bundle of blankets to her chest, lowering herself into the rocking chair at her calves. She will cry when the man reach her, she will yell, she will fight for her daughter. She will defend her baby because it is her duty as it's mother, fight to keep it in her arms, where she could keep it safe.

     She will fight; but she will lose.

     However, the men have not crossed the room yet, they are walking slowly, guns drawn, speaking a language that no longer registers to her as English. No, they are still far away, far enough away that she has time to say goodbye.

     She lifts the infant from her breast, holding it to her face. Their eyes lock, her gaze a summer shade of blue that matches the sky, the infant's a beautiful gem glow of blue and purple. "You are destined for many things, my daughter." She whispers, watching the baby squirm in her hold, uncomfortable in the air. "But you will always be mine. Your name is Laelynn, and you are my miracle. Laelynn, Laelynn, my sweet baby Laelynn..."

     Thunder booms in the little country house, twice, but the summer day continues on. The wind blows, birds fly high above, and the flag waves on. Somewhere, a baby starts to cry, and a car door slams shut. 

     In the distance there is a rumble, and for the first time in three long weeks, a storm begins it's build in the west.