Sees In Colors

Golden tears stream down her face…

Colors…

She cannot resist them, she cannot hide.

She is alone in the black darkness, cloying and thick, pressing in and from all sides

She feels her own tears

But does not see them

She sees something else entirely

He is beautiful in a very masculine way, his hair long falling into his eyes, his eyes as golden as his hair

How strange she’s seen people with hair and eyes the same color before

Herself, even, she vaguely recalls

She has black eyes and black hair, or had rather because her hair is all gone

Her sister Cynthia (sister? That is the word, isn’t it? Has that memory faded like so many others? It’s always a possibility…) had brown hair and brown eyes.

Another woman, one she remembers from tomorrow, has red eyes like blood and red hair like flames… she’s an enemy. Evil.

This man is not. He is the very opposite of that. And she’s entranced by him. She’s never seen that sort of coloring. Gold and gold. Strange, abnormal…

Beautiful.

That’s the word she first used for him, and it still suits.

Beautiful.

His eyes were not always this lovely gold, she can sense that. They used to be that same red as blood and horror color, stained with something… some great crime.

She cannot be sure what. But it was heinous.

Yet something turned him from that path, onto a different- a better- one.

It was her. She knows that, somehow. Her own triumph helped this angel turn away from the darkness and into the golden light of his eyes

The brightness is not the important thing. Neither is the darkness

If that was what she wanted she could

Exist in her own world

No, it is the colors that make the visions worth their cost, because they do not live where she is. There are not colors in the… Elysium?

That’s not it.

Silo?

No… that’s something else- her mind offers a picture of a large building, round, stuffed with hay the color of his hair

Asylum.

There we go.

Asylum. It’s the name of her prison, a pretty little euphemism in her opinion, though of course she couldn’t know words that large, since no one troubles to talk to the crazy girl who sees the future

Mary Alice Crazy Mary- Mary, Mary, Bloody Mary

Blood on her hands, blood in her heart… blood in her eyes.

That is the red color.

Blood in his eyes.

She resolves then and there that she will never have blood in her eyes. Instead she will have the gold to break the black and white.

She has no colors. There is the darkness of her cell and the obliterating whiteness of her painful treatments. Even her memories have faded in color until they, too, become mere photographs, colorless in the vault of her mind.

But at least she has the companions of what a teacher once called “Mary’s fancies.”

And she Sees in color.

That is a consolation

A small one…