Colour.
A world without colour was painful to him. The only familiar thing being the paleness of the snow. He searched amongst the ruins. So many dead. Faces he knew in passing and faces he didn't; all strangers now, frozen by the winter. He didn't know exactly what he was searching for. The colour that had been so stolen from him, perhaps? The colour of a world he had taken for granted until the last minutes and lost for such foolishness.
Nothing now but white and the echoing shades of pale grey to pitch black.
Searching maybe, for the house he had left behind. The park in between their two houses. A street corner where he could see both their windows. Roses and Hydrangea's lining their inner city streets. A distance once not so far, lengthened by death. Socks and memories.
Only knowing that despite the pain, if he stopped there would be no more moving on.
For how long he wandered like this, he wasn't sure. He collected things along the way; rope, watches, chains, cigarettes; becoming a common thief from the dead no less and he could feel his soul wither, drop after drop until it drove him to a halt. To fall upon his knees and weep nothing but sobs into the ice.
I couldn't save you... Couldn't save anybody...
Something told him to continue.
When he found the boy, almost dead but not quite; whimpering, no more voice left to cry; he wondered if the messed together weaving frame and the web of tangled spiraling knot work inside was big enough to heal all his wounds, as the rope hurriedly burnt away with the rise of his voice. So much blood on his hands, a dark grey against his fingertips... In the snow around them, discoloured from the pure whiteness. A creeping taint.
It was as he held the boy close to his chest; broken bones protesting against sharp intakes of breath, that he wept those tears now stained the most vibrant red.
More than for singing life into the narrow body that convulsed as the hurried healing took place; it was the fact that colour was restored to his sight.
He wished to be blind again.
Sequel to Monochrome
Okay. Three-five more prelude stories then I will get onto the main story. I swear. Considering I have some of the main story already written but still...
I think I'm trying to introduce too many people. But, they're all fighting to be a part of this world and it's driving me crazy. >|
One for A. One for U, One for R, One for R and M and one for the other R.
All of these will go under rewriting I think. Grammar, heavy editing, what not, before I post them all anywhere else.
Drawing now.
I love how Ruki is wearing an AC/DC shirt. */random* Rock and Roll indeed.
Nothing now but white and the echoing shades of pale grey to pitch black.
Searching maybe, for the house he had left behind. The park in between their two houses. A street corner where he could see both their windows. Roses and Hydrangea's lining their inner city streets. A distance once not so far, lengthened by death. Socks and memories.
Only knowing that despite the pain, if he stopped there would be no more moving on.
For how long he wandered like this, he wasn't sure. He collected things along the way; rope, watches, chains, cigarettes; becoming a common thief from the dead no less and he could feel his soul wither, drop after drop until it drove him to a halt. To fall upon his knees and weep nothing but sobs into the ice.
I couldn't save you... Couldn't save anybody...
Something told him to continue.
When he found the boy, almost dead but not quite; whimpering, no more voice left to cry; he wondered if the messed together weaving frame and the web of tangled spiraling knot work inside was big enough to heal all his wounds, as the rope hurriedly burnt away with the rise of his voice. So much blood on his hands, a dark grey against his fingertips... In the snow around them, discoloured from the pure whiteness. A creeping taint.
It was as he held the boy close to his chest; broken bones protesting against sharp intakes of breath, that he wept those tears now stained the most vibrant red.
More than for singing life into the narrow body that convulsed as the hurried healing took place; it was the fact that colour was restored to his sight.
He wished to be blind again.
Sequel to Monochrome
Okay. Three-five more prelude stories then I will get onto the main story. I swear. Considering I have some of the main story already written but still...
I think I'm trying to introduce too many people. But, they're all fighting to be a part of this world and it's driving me crazy. >|
One for A. One for U, One for R, One for R and M and one for the other R.
All of these will go under rewriting I think. Grammar, heavy editing, what not, before I post them all anywhere else.
Drawing now.
I love how Ruki is wearing an AC/DC shirt. */random* Rock and Roll indeed.