Monday, January 12, 2015

Lizzie Koch Week 134: Grey

Picture 1

Picture 2

Lizzie Koch’s Picture Choice: 2

Title: Grey

I take my usual route to work, walking briskly through the same crowds, the same streets, going unnoticed as I blend into the drab surroundings. Everything is grey. Grey buildings loom high above me, casting their jagged shadows across the grey floor. Trees spike their bare branches, never in bloom as they tower above the street. I sit at my grey desk, enclosed by grey walls.

There must be something more.

I barely finish my thought when an envelope slips under my door. I can’t ignore it; it’s the colour of blood. I tear it open and snow coloured paper falls out. I read it once, twice, three times, just to make sure my mind has processed the information the correctly.

If you want more, meet me in the park at noon is all it says.

I hurry across the park, keeping to the grey path. I pass empty benches and gravel filled gardens; there’s no green in this park.

Everything is grey until a branch appears with leaves a vibrant red. I’ve never seen leaves, let alone red.

Directly under the leaves, a slash of red tears through the grey. He holds out his hand. I take it. It’s not as warm as I expected.

Our conversation is short. He offers me a chance of a life full of colour, warmth, touch, company. He wants nothing from me. But I can’t return.

I’m fed up of living in the shadows of despondency. I’m heavy just like the grey sky hanging above.

It takes seconds to sign the contract and through the grey, a door appears. The man in red vanishes as the red leaves flutter to the ground, turning grey, disappearing into the asphalt. That will be me one day. It’s me now. Just grey.

I open the door. Rainbows of vibrant colour hit me. I feel the warmth on my skin as it glows from grey to pink. I feel light as my feet skip through soft green grass. People are sitting together, chatting, playing, kissing . . . to feel the touch of another. I feel like my heart will burst as I take in an artist’s palette of colour.

I join groups, listening to their laughter. Their smiles are beams of light on my soul. A hand brushes against mine. The heat within intensifies as I stare into crystal blue eyes. He smiles. I can’t believe how easy and quick the transition is; from nothing to everything. My senses will implode, I know they will.

We walk, hand in hand through the park that teems with life as birds swoop and chirp, butterflies flutter and bees busy themselves collecting pollen.

A child stops and stares at me. I smile. He continues to stare. Passersby stop in their tracks and stare at me too. My warm glow is beginning to fade. The man holding my hand stops, releasing my hand. He looks down. I look too. The grass is bathed in sunlight. I love there’s no shadows hanging over me like huge umbrellas. The man steps aside and I notice his shadow moves. He has a shadow. Everyone has shadows. I hadn’t realise before we had shadows but then I lived in constant shadow. Now, I would have my own personal shadow that follows me everywhere.

I look down at my feet, turning around.

I have no shadow.

I look up at the man. His face is devoid of warmth. I feel coldness seeping through me as he walks away. Everyone is walking away.

I am different. The colours begin to fade as I realise I have no one to share them with.

I have no shadow.

I can’t go back where it doesn’t matter.

I am grey.


Like what you just read? Have a question or concern? Leave a note for the author! We appreciate your feedback!

I dream of sharing my work with the big wide world one day as a published author. Right now, I share flash fiction with a wonderful community of writers and friends. If you liked this story, then why not visit my blog at for more. Thank you. Love Lizzie x


No comments:

Post a Comment