To me, “blue” has always been more of an emotion, a state of mind, than a color. I tried to convey that here, looking back to experiences and illnesses of my own. It’s a little bit of dark but (I hope) a lot of light. Enjoy!
He was born under the stars.
When he closed his eyes he could still see them, circulating on the back of his lids from left to right, following the orbit of the Earth. They were seared there, imprinting a permanent calm. He never knew pure blackness, the pitch dark of nothing.
He ran a hand through his hair and settled it under his head as he opened his eyes. The morning was bright and unforgiving. It was an overwhelming peach, when he was a natural blue. His life was a constant wave of turquoise and cerulean. It weighed him down and brought him up like a current, the tide changing with the pull of the moon.
He took his time getting out of the bed, grabbing the pill vial on the way to the bathroom. He popped one out onto his palm and swallowed it dry. He turned the faucet on and splashed his face, cupping the water in his hand to take a drink. It would take a couple of hours before the currents subsided. A breath he had held onto throughout the night finally escaped his lips.
You are here, he spoke to his reflection. It wasn’t him, not really. Are mirror images ever really us to begin with? What stared back was a mashup of reversed angles, sharp points where he felt dull, jagged edges of false confidence. The reflection was probably born through the light, was blessed with darkness when it was appropriate, an easy flick of the switch when the time came to turn away.
You are special. He was a blue, how could he compare to the reds, the oranges, the greens and the yellows of this world? He was a dim speck of dusty cornflower, not as magical as the sunrise or dusk after a rainstorm. Too often, he was the storm.
You will be alright. This was the hardest part. His mother was rose, his father an emerald green (he assumed, he was never around for him to see). When he was born, under the sky and the constellations overhead, he didn’t think he could ever be alone if she was there with him. But roses had a way of wilting away too quickly.
You woke up. You’ve already accomplished so much. This he heard in her voice. He rubbed his thumb along his opposite wrist in reaction and he stole a glance at the pill vial again, counting down the hours until he could open it back up. He nodded at himself in the mirror instead, that version of himself that was somehow better and worse, and walked away. The diffused light filled the room now, pushing out the dark from the corners.
Be brave. His body shook. He closed his eyes once more, letting the starlight comfort him. It was easier said than done most days but the darkness would never really encompass him. He repeated the mantra in his mind, ready to walk into the shades of morning.
If you’re up for the challenge, write your take of this prompt on your own blog. Be sure to tag us by including the above picture and a link to this post so that we can find and read the creative interpretations you come up with! We will be re-posting our favorites for all to enjoy so give it your best!
(Specifics– Write using 500 words or less. There is no limit to the amount of stories you write per prompt. Copy and paste these writing challenge details when you share with friends so others can join.)