Grace Feckterhight

Chapter Three

Color adorned every surface. Spray paint was in splatters everywhere. Small multicolored lights crossed above our heads, giving light to the place. Stalls surrounded the center, selling spray paint, cans of paint, chalk paint, powder paint, dyes, colored clothing, pure liquefied color, food coloring, you name it. There were even plants of color. Someone had poured pure liquefied color into the base of the plant, making it grow with an electric green shine. The large, bright leaves grew in pots next to stalls. Other plants were tropical, with vibrant and glowing orange flowers. Their brilliance and color reminded me of Sytra. I smiled at the thought of my best friend. She'd love this.

People were scattered around, and in varying degrees of color. Some were completely covered head to toe, with multicolored clothes and painted skin. Others wore B.L.A.D.E. uniforms, with dark clothing trimmed with unique colors. Still others were a mix, with splashes here and there.

There was one thing that everything shared in common.

Every color was stunningly bright.

It surrounded the place, making everything shine. Every shade was out for attention. The beauty was a little shocking, and it let me ignore my pain for a second.

"How..?" I asked with little success. How could something so beautiful exist?

You haven't seen anything yet. A tiny voice whispered inside of me, like a wisp of my past. It seemed to hold a thousand secrets, and an entire past I knew nothing of.

The fact that there was a cute boy next to me shook me out of my thoughts. Dixter smiled at me, seeming to love my awestruck expression. It seemed to me that he found even more satisfaction in watching me because he was the one that brought me here.

"You like it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I love it."

The color was astounding, and was spread thoroughly throughout the place. The very air seemed to radiate vibrance, like invisible electric waves of color.

What is this place?

"This is no paint shop." I said with a little laugh, elbowing Dixter in the side.

He laughed along with me. "No. This is much better."

I looked around in wonder. "This is a paint haven."

He walked out towards the center of the place. He turned around and spread his arms out wide, like a showman presenting to an audience. "Welcome to Color Central." His eyes sparkled, like this was the happiest he'd ever been.

I laughed at his act, the pain fading by the minute. The energy this place had seemed to heal me. Almost like I was meant to be here, where color was abundant and thrown about recklessly.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along, something he couldn't do moments before because of my pain. I wondered if he knew that this place could heal.

I allowed him to lead me, laughing a little. He was so childish. I felt like a mother being pulled along by her excited 5-year-old at a flashy carnival.

"Here!" Dixter exclaimed. He stood proudly by a stall. "You'll like this one."

He was right. I did like it. It was a stall of artwork, with canvases and framed paper lining the walls. The artwork portrayed images of people throwing color into the air, people drawing power from their chests. There was even a piece that showed a young woman with a sword made of color.

"Are these inspired from real people?" I asked the stall keeper. He was an old man that sat hunched on a director's chair towards the back end of the stall. His feet were tucked under him, and he leaned forward on a cane. He had wisps of white hair that seemed seconds away from falling off. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled and sunken, but the light of wisdom in his eyes was unmistakable. "Yes, sweetheart. These are mere ghosts of the past, but at one point, they were very much alive."