The Boy in Black
The room was completely dark save the faint red cast by the alarm clock, four A.M.. The clock looked to be almost floating in midair, because the clock and all of its surroundings were black. A quiet click and then the violent agonizing cry of the alarm rang in the air. A grunt, somewhere between pain and pleasure, preceded a loud slap that silenced the alarm. A shuffle of blankets, the light padding of bare feet on old carpet, and a small click. A singular lamp illuminated the room.
At first glance, you may not know that a light was on at all. Every surface in the room was the same matte black. The floor, the walls, the bedside table. Even the mass of black hair on the figure shrouded in a mass of black sheets and a black bathrobe.
As the figure shed his coverings he revealed a male of roughly twenty years. His powder white skin a stark contrast to the dark room. The light reflected of his skin and no other surface, giving him an eerie, almost divine, glow. Standing, nude, and contemplating the day to come, he headed towards the black wardrobe opposite his bed. He dressed in all black, shirt to socks.
He headed for the door he stopped suddenly, realizing he forgot something. He walked back to the wardrobe and pulled out a pendant. It hung on a black silk cord, and it was a fairly unremarkable pendant. It was a smooth circle, with no ridges or markings of any kind. The only thing that stood out about the pendant was that, much like its wearers skin, it was a pure white. He tied the pendant around his neck and let lifted his hair out from under the cord. An onlooker might even swear that at that moment the light reflected off his hair no longer a void of light.
Walking out of his blue house he put on a pair of rose colored sunglasses. He got into his green car and drove off into the beautiful orange and yellow sunrise.