The Colours of Life

Prolouge - The darkness

I invite you all, for a moment, to imagine something. Imagine everything is black. There's no colour, only an infinite void of darkness.

Black, the colour of hopelessness and despair.

But then you realize you were wrong, your understanding of the space around you was not complete, there's more to this darkness than simply black... there's sound.

A sound of a faint, infinite beeping résonantes from an unknown source. This beeping is soon followed by whispers: the faint sound of voices. You may not know when they started but you do know that they're something to hold on to, that there's more beyond the vast expanse of black, and you crave it.

No matter how hard you try nothing moves, as if your body isn't even your own; as if your mind has been detached from the only thing you've ever been able to control, and suddenly, everything seems a little bit darker again.

Days go by, or maybe weeks, months? You have no idea, your concept of time is gone and the weird thing is, is that it's not like it matters to you anyways. All that matters is the possibility of something beyond this black, this emptiness. This void, devoid of colour.

Without your notice the beeping begins to get louder, the whispers turning into murmurs of words that sound familiar but you still can't decipher their meaning, their definitions.

Time goes by and it only gets louder, until all of a sudden you can feel something, something small: a tingling, fuzzy sensation. Something you probably most well know as pins and needles. It starts at the tips of the fingers on your left hand. It's just a small feeling, barely noticeable.

It feels familiar, somehow, yet distant all the same.

You don't know how long it takes but it feels like an eternity before the feeling has spread up your arm and circulates around your body. Movement. You feel your fingers twitch, adjust ever so slightly at your command. The satisfaction of that action, however, does not last because the next thing you see takes your breath away.

Everything is white. The walls, the sheets, the counter, the ceiling... White and only white... The colour of hope.

The stuttering of a voice and a flash of movement in the corner of your eye. A person in white says something your brain doesn't register before rushing out of the room and returning what feels like a life time later, with yet another white figure. Their faces are unfamiliar, their movement hurts your eyes. "Where am I?" Is all you can manage to ask, getting assistance sitting up, your breaths shallow.

What once was an everyday, menial task has become the start of everything you could have hoped for. The simple act of getting out of bed. Without your notice two more figures have entered the room and you can feel their eyes on you, their emotion is contagious. Emotion, positive emotion, returns to your existence; yet something is missing. A piece of the puzzle is gone, the life you have entered is not your own.

Standing before you, to the right of your little resting place is a boy, with the most alluring eyes. They seem familiar but you can't place it. The vibrant colour brings you joy. These people don't belong here, they're too... vibrant. The colours of their clothes and the emotions they radiate fill you with feelings you cannot feel, places you cannot remember and memories you cannot place.

Adding to your confusion the boy steps from foot to foot, gathering your attention again, as tears roll down his face. He's dancing as if surrounded by ants before he seemingly gives in to the ants and wraps his fragile arms around your torso. He looks beautiful, majestic almost. You must be dead, and this must be heaven.

To your surprise the boy moves quickly, speaking faster than your brain can keep up. Familiar words fill your head, he's speaking to you. Asking things, about you that you can't answer yourself. You aren't anyone, you're simply a figure. The one word you can't seem to remember is the word that resonates with you the most, the one filled with the most emotion. Abigail.

The word that came out of the same boy's mouth seems so unsure yet so demanding and confident. Despite the unknown, the touch of his hand on your arm feel comforting, different that the touch of the doctors, cold and empty. You may not know this boy but you also have not the heart to push him away, he is bringing you emotions you do not remember but wish so desperately to experience.

Before you can think of what to say another pair of arms, shaking arms, wrap around you. Through shaky words you hear something, bringing you back to reality. Her hair falls in front of your face, her tears cool as they fall onto your shoulder. For the first time since the sight of white you understand something, the feelings this woman is showing.

Scared. Terrified. Relieved.

You know these feelings well, they may be the only thing you really do... the feeling of the darkness, and the feeling if escaping that fate. When they pull away you finally meet eyes to eyes with the second pair of arms. An unrecognized figure stands before you. The courage to ask a question finally arises, the feeling of connection pushing you past the borders of the unknown.

"Who... are you?"

They're three simple words but the look of terror on the faces before you brings you back to the darkness, it brings you back to the pain there was before. The face before you is empty, the momentous joy gone in an instant. The small boy is the only voice talking, the only one seemingly not affected by the words you spoke.

You feel yourself tense, full of regret for asking a question of such despair. The words you know are useless, you should have never left the void. Only murmurs and that oh so familiar beeping noise. Helplessness. Loneliness. Black. The darkness, devoid of the colours of life.

This is no longer your freedom from the void but only a momentary escape, the reach of the darkness closer than you know, yet further than you can see, waiting to strike at any moment.

My name is Abigail Raymond and this is my reality. These are my experiences, my thoughts and my actions. Nothing defines me more than what is written here since the me that existed before is no longer present. This story doesn't have a fairytale ending and there's no night on shining armour to save me. After all this is 2043 and if you want something done you have to do it yourself.

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Hey guys, this is the start of my first book. Confusing right? Don't worry I'll probably upload the next chapter soon.

Feel free to vote or comment if you liked it, I would love to hear your opinion even if you didn't. Thanks for reading~

-Will <3