sunspot: zetti face with a curling fern (pen and ink)
The grass was gray when I went outside that morning. I remember to rushed to really think about. It didn't fully hit me until blocks away from my house, stuck in traffic. Weird, was all I thought.

Staring out the window, willing the lights to change, I realized the red looked more washed out. And the sky was actually changing in front of my eyes. What was going on?

I tried to put it out of my mind, but halfway through the work day, they broadcasted the president's emergency address. The colours were leaving. I went home early.

In the streets, crowds stared up in horror as the sun drained of its yellows, oranges and fission reds.

I saw a bluebird that afternoon, outside of my window. I actually felt the tears creeping up in my eyes and my breath catching in my throat. 'A bird, now. Can't call it blue anymore.'

My brother was lying on his back on the carpet, picking threads from the hem of his jeans. 'Yeah, and? I've always called them birds.'

'Yes, but you're colourblind!'

'Well we all are now,' he reminded me.

Too Clever

May. 31st, 2009 10:22 pm
sunspot: zetti face with a curling fern (Default)
I killed a man in cold blood. I'll be the first to admit it wasn't the best idea I've ever had and I really shouldn't have done it in that crowded market square, but he had slighted my honour and a man never lives long after that, to be sure.

The police caught me and found me guilty and threw me in a cell. They told me, as I was a gentleman, I was allowed to pick the manner of my execution and I could even have the night to think about it.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon and I can hear men coming for me. The joke is on them, though, because I have chosen 'old age'.

September 2017

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