GRAY

Chapter 6

Timothy was slung into a dark room, he hit the cold floor and the door slammed, he was in a black darkness. All he could hear was a dripping sound, he felt the floor and it was oily wet. He started to feel around the room, there were large metal barrels and tins stacked up as high as he could reach. He felt the embossed letters for words, 'Orange, Yellow, Blue, Green' and the word 'Paint'. His eyes started to adjust to the darkness, the tins and barrels were stacked tall up to the roof and there were walkways between them, there must have been hundreds of them. He looked at his hands and they were covered in paint, he dragged his palms over his face.

The Head of content entered a boardroom. Gathered round a great oval table were forty TV Execs in their purple gowns. At the head of the table was an older man in a purple gown with a red hat, a name tag indicated this was the Head of Programmes.

Timothy started to shake the barrels, he crashed into one side of the corridor then into the other. He felt wet droplets fall from the sky like rain, for the first time in his life he felt rain. It's strange water like texture was tantalising on his face, he felt his face and it was thick in the darkness, it wasn't water falling, it was paint. He looked up at the swaying cans, then one fell, he saw it falling in the dark, just quick enough so he could step out of it's way as it fell with a crash to the floor. Liquid flew out of the barrel and drenched him.

The sound of the crash was heard in the boardroom. Dust came from the ceiling, and the chandeliers rattled their glass.

Crawford leant into the Head of Content's ear, 'a barrel must have fallen over in the warehouse above, it may be the boy.'

The Head of Content replied impatiently, 'yes I know that Crawford, please.' He pushed him back to the wall. The Head of Programmes eyeballed them across the desk, he then addressed the room.

'Now, thank you for joining us for the quarterly meeting gentlemen.' He gave a limp smile to them all. The purple robbed men started back blankly. So he continued, 'It seems we've had a good quarter as usual. But first I wanted to remind you all of something, something that we all must remember. When The Gray came in we the few took control of the many, we the chosen few made a better life for ourselves in the studios.' He started to walk round the room, the windows looked out onto the lot but he focused on the men gathered around the table that nodded their heads in agreement. 'It's a brave man that looks after himself and his friends. Not greedy but more deserving. We took The Gray and embraced it, painted the world gray. Took away all color what was left and kept it for ourselves. We harnessed the power of the magic box like we knew how and made it more powerful than ever. Why? Because, we're greedy that's why.' The men in the room started to laugh. There was a crash of a can above them, then another. Some of the men jumped up, and stood at the edge of the room. The crashes came down more frequently, then one landed hard and came through the ceiling. The Head of Programmes looked to the ceiling put his hands up and screamed but was crushed by a barrel of yellow paint. The execs pushed one another and panicked. Then the roof collapsed in, barrels of color smashed through and hit the table, snapping it in splinters. The paint leapt out the barrels; violet, blue and green, scattered everywhere. The barrels rolled through the windows and straight out the side of the building and into the lot below. As the dust settled standing on the table was a boy, Timothy. Covered head to toe in colors he was unrecognisable, patches and splatters of bright pink punctuated with turquoise, green and gold. The wind blew in through the windows and the floor was in tatters, out the smashed windows the lot now looked scarily closer than before.

'You!' Shouted The Head of Content. Timothy turned to him. 'Grab him Crawford!' Shouted The Head of Content. But Crawford didn't budge, Timothy looked fierce like a wild animal, the only parts of his body that could be made out were the whites of his eyes and teeth that were chalk white.