GRAY

Chapter 5

Timothy was being led through the studio buildings, they went through a set of gates with a cattle grid on the floor. Timothy began to notice strange cooing and squeaking noises, things rustling behind curtains. A man walked past with a zebra, Timothy recognised it from TV and was in complete shock, he'd never seen anything like it in the flesh. He decided he must be in the animal section of the building. He'd never smelt anything so wild. Mythical creatures were alive all around him and his pulse thumped. Ducks, cows and alligators, he finally believed they could all be true, they were all real. As they rounded a corner, Timothy almost walked straight into a great brown bear. Timothy ducked as it's big wet nose went straight toward him. Crawford was not so lucky and it licked him right in the face, it's teeth had been removed. Crawford let go of Timothy and Timothy took his opportunity, he darted under a carriage carrying chimpanzee's. Crawford went to follow but with his round belly he couldn't get through the gap.

'Come back!' Crawford shouted. The chimpanzee's started whooping and jumping in the carriage. Timothy rolled out the other side of the carriage and through some curtains, then leapt up and ran into another building. Timothy slipped through another curtain and couldn't believe it. He was on the set of the KFB advert, with the green plastic grass and the cadillac.

'The same thing we have every night son...' Timothy said to himself. Timothy's eyes then lit up, facing away from Timothy there was the small blonde boy from the advert, standing in what looked like a garden near half a house built in the studio. Timothy walked up behind the boy, he was trembling with excitement. He got closer and raised his hand, he almost couldn't speak. He was so apprehensive but he managed to get the words out.

'What are we having for dinner tonight dad?' He patted the boy roughly on the shoulder. The boy span round, but to Timothy's horror it wasn't a little boy, it was a shrunken old man and his face was creased, his skin saggy and he was angry.

'What the hell do you think you're doing, don't you dare touch me like that.' The old man was shouting, he struck Timothy's hand off his shoulder. Timothy was frozen in fear and tears began to come to his eyes.

'Forty years I've been doing this job and not an inkling of respect. The last thing I want is some dirty child touching me.'

'I, I didn't know.' Said Timothy.

'You didn't know.' Shouted the little man. 'Well that's the magic of television.' He laughed and wheezed. Timothy started to back away from him.

'I've got to go and get my mask on, so get out of here and let that be a lesson to you boy.' Said the old man snarling in Timothy's face, Timothy burst into tears and ran.

At that moment something strange happened outside the studio. What looked like a flat gray cloud drifted along the road, only it wasn't a cloud. The security guard in his gray uniform lowered the barrier. He squinted his eyes and could see it was people, lots of them. At the front was Timothy's parents and they were slowly getting closer.

Timothy wasn't thinking about where he was going, he just kept rushing through different sets and studios. He pushed open a white door with a star on the front. He got inside and it was a crisp white room, mirrors adorned the walls that were surrounded by light bulbs. Timothy crashed into a corner and cried. He didn't see the woman sitting in a chair putting her makeup on. She was bald and a wig sat on a bust next to her, it was Miss Chester-Greasly. She turned slowly to look at Timothy.

'Hello little boy.' She said, 'what are you doing here?'

Timothy now recognised her. 'Your Miss Chester-Greasly. The storyteller.'

She turned away from Timothy and looked in the mirror. 'Yes that's me, and what's your name?'

'Timothy.'

'That's what I tell Timothy, stories. I was once like you, a gray little child. Then they picked me up one day and promised to make me a star.'

'You're a big star alright, I've watched you once a day for most of my life.'

'Yes a star, but at what cost. I thought the lights would show off my beauty but they turned me ugly outside and in, and now I'm spent with just days left. I actually believe they'll stuff me like my terrier and drag me out for the show, or just use reruns for eternity.''

'What do you mean, I think you're beautiful.' Said Timothy.

She smiled, 'Only a child could see me to be beautiful. Timothy, do you want to hear a secret?'

'Yes of course.'

'What they tell you about this world, what I've told you, it isn't all true. The TV Execs, they are not really special like they tell you. This world was a desolate bowl and it was people like them that made it this way.'

'What do you mean?'

'There was once a great battle between five big TV Studios. They fought not with weapons but with money, sort of an old form of credits. They thought hard for everything and in the process destroyed it all.'

'No, that's why there's only gray?'

'Yes they consumed and sold everything, until there was nothing left. When they realised what they had done it was too late. They should have admitted defeat but in one last merger they all joined together as Channel 756.'

'Channel 756, the only channel?'

'They couldn't tell everyone the truth so they made a lie, they had nothing left to sell so they would make it so everyone had nothing. They saw from the gray the despair people had, so they started painting everything gray, and it worked, their brains rotted and the world became slaves, slaves to the idiot box.'

'That's an awful story.' Said Timothy.

'That's not a story Timothy, that's the truth. I'm old enough to remember and that's why they keep me here.' Miss Chester-Greasly held up an arm, she was chained to the table. 'Now you've got to get as far away from here as possible. They don't let people see this place and live to tell the tale.' All of a sudden the doors bust open, it was Crawford and the Head of Content, followed by men in gray boiler suits. Miss Chester-Greasly got up and tried to get in between them.

'Leave him alone.' Shouted Miss Chester-Greasly. The Head of Content dashed her into the wall, she cracked a mirror and her wig fell onto the floor. Even the men in gray suits were shocked. Timothy went to protest.

'No more games!' Shouted the Head of Content, he struck Timothy hard in the face with his palm, busting open Timothy's nose. Timothy felt like his head was scrambled, like when the old TV set couldn't tune and his father had hit it to make the picture stick. He fell to the floor and there was a stunned silence in the room. Timothy put his hand to his nose that throbbed with pain, he pulled his hand back and saw something so bright with color he felt it in his stomach. Fresh red blood, dark and bright at the same time. Thick and thin, black and white, red. The red of the scenery, the red in the corner of his sisters dry dusty eyes, the red of the cadillac, the red of the liquid that swells around his head at night when he can't stop thinking. Not like the orange red of the television but a thick deep red which changed colors around the edges and gleamed like a jewel. Something snapped in him and he felt wild like the color. For the first time in his life he knew what it was to be alive, his focus was sharp, the pain a comfort and he stared at the Head of Content like he could see for the first time what he really was, a coward.

'You'll regret that.' Said Timothy.

'Grab him.' Said the Head of Content. The group didn't move. 'Grab him I said.' Shouted the Head of Content. The group jolted into action and took hold of Timothy.