Story cover for grey. [COMPLETE] [CONTEST ENTRY] by SpectralHeart
grey. [COMPLETE] [CONTEST ENTRY]
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  • WpView
    Reads 101
  • WpVote
    Votes 5
  • WpPart
    Parts 2
  • WpHistory
    Time 6m
Complete, First published Jul 31, 2017
"when all colour is gone, the rain begins..."
  
  this was a contest entry! it's not my best work but i'm pretty proud of the outcome. the story follows a girl who is colourblind, interlaced with poetic snippets. this girl is never named. she also has an (unnamed) brother who helps her deal with her colourblindness. however, the focus of the story isn't on the condition itself, but the colourblindness is more of a metaphor for her trying to find colour in the grey areas of life. i had to write this story in under 1000 words, so i hope that it's not too poorly written...
  
  anyway, enjoy!
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Pinwheels and Dandelions by cjacks1124
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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Wings To The World

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They said heaven was the right kind of crowded, and dusty, and soft. They said it would smell of roses and clouds, they said it would melt every part of my body into one. They called heaven beautiful, they called it enough. They said the glass in heaven's windows would be thick, coloured, and like a lens through which you saw the world. They said I would be a being of light, they called the writings we were to make beautiful. The people that said this spent millennia trying to chase the feeling of sweet tenderness, but they chased it in things that were never meant to be more than sculptures and scriptures. They didn't say heaven would feel so... homely.