This is my entry for Battle of the Quill Scouts round one. I might possibly write another piece for the second picture, it really depends on if I have time, because I'm going to Bonnaro and I'll be leaving on Wednesday. So I don't yet if there will be two entries from me, we'll see.
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The Colors That Were Lost:
“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
She was once filled with so many colors. She was overflowing with every shade of the spectrum every second. They battled within her softly, twirling and dancing and changing with her moods.
She was Yellow when the sun shone and the birds sang. Yellow was for when the world was alive and so was she. Yellow was her happiest color. When she was Yellow, she would shine like the sun and radiate warmth so that everyone around her would turn Yellow too. Yellow made her want to dance and play like she was once again a child. Yellow was for when she was joyful and all was well.
She was Lavender when among beautiful gardens with pastel flowers. Lavender was peaceful, and it soothed her very soul. Lavender was for when she wanted to sway gracefully and lie in grassy fields. When she was Lavender, she was serene; nothing and no one could fight around her. Lavender was calming; it was quiet.
She was Green when there was something new. Green was the color of beginnings and rebirth. Green was for after the rain had stopped and the winter was over. She was Green when she changed and grew. Green was fresh and reviving. Green let her begin again.
She was Red when she was with you. Red came when passion expanded within her bones. Her Red was powerful, and it sometimes knocked down those nearby. When her Red scared you, it would easily morph into a color of anxiety. But the Red could just as easily drift into a Pink of pure love. Her Red was feelings; it was bursting with pleasure and pain. And sometimes it hurt her to be that full of anything, but it was better than the numb. Red was blood and Red was life.
She was Brown when it was winter and there were no leaves left to hug her branches. Brown came with late nights with nothing to do and tired mornings that left her craving sleep. Her Brown was a bored and lonely color. She was Brown when there was nothing left but jadedness. Brown was forlorn and despondent. Brown left her craving Red.
She was always a little bit Blue. Different shades of Blue flittered behind every other color she ever was. Sometimes she was as light a Blue as she sky; a Blue that left her soaring still. At times her blue was of the ocean: with little flecks of white and green. When she was ocean Blue, she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. It was nostalgia and wanderlust and pessimism all in one shade of Blue. She was sometimes a Blue that was only found on brightly colored boxes and labels. It was a Blue that left her subtlety sad. Every now and then she was a Blue that was dark like the fading sky after sunset; a Blue that was close to Black. When she was that kind of Blue, she felt like a rainstorm. The Blue was like a battle in her body, but the pain was starting to go numb. It was her worst Blue; it was a lonely Blue.
She started to turn Black. It was a color full of nothing that snuck up on her slowly. Black was despair and hopelessness. But Black stole her power to care; it consumed her slowly, and took away her ability to fight back. As the Black within her grew and grew, it consumed all her other colors and trapped them deep inside where she could hardly even remember what her colors felt like. The Black held the colors back, and she was lucky if she was ever even brown or blue. When she was Black, it consumed her, and it didn’t fade away.
Eventually, she was Black for so long, that the other colors were no longer just trapped in the depths of her. Black drove out all her other colors. Her Yellow and her Lavender; the Green and the Red; her Brown and Blue; all of the colors where squeezed out in place of the tears Black had stolen from her. When Black came, it took the rest of her away. She bled her true colors out in rivers.
And the saddest part of it was, Black didn’t let her care. She was colorless, and she stayed that way.
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The Colors That Were Lost:
“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.”
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
She was once filled with so many colors. She was overflowing with every shade of the spectrum every second. They battled within her softly, twirling and dancing and changing with her moods.
She was Yellow when the sun shone and the birds sang. Yellow was for when the world was alive and so was she. Yellow was her happiest color. When she was Yellow, she would shine like the sun and radiate warmth so that everyone around her would turn Yellow too. Yellow made her want to dance and play like she was once again a child. Yellow was for when she was joyful and all was well.
She was Lavender when among beautiful gardens with pastel flowers. Lavender was peaceful, and it soothed her very soul. Lavender was for when she wanted to sway gracefully and lie in grassy fields. When she was Lavender, she was serene; nothing and no one could fight around her. Lavender was calming; it was quiet.
She was Green when there was something new. Green was the color of beginnings and rebirth. Green was for after the rain had stopped and the winter was over. She was Green when she changed and grew. Green was fresh and reviving. Green let her begin again.
She was Red when she was with you. Red came when passion expanded within her bones. Her Red was powerful, and it sometimes knocked down those nearby. When her Red scared you, it would easily morph into a color of anxiety. But the Red could just as easily drift into a Pink of pure love. Her Red was feelings; it was bursting with pleasure and pain. And sometimes it hurt her to be that full of anything, but it was better than the numb. Red was blood and Red was life.
She was Brown when it was winter and there were no leaves left to hug her branches. Brown came with late nights with nothing to do and tired mornings that left her craving sleep. Her Brown was a bored and lonely color. She was Brown when there was nothing left but jadedness. Brown was forlorn and despondent. Brown left her craving Red.
She was always a little bit Blue. Different shades of Blue flittered behind every other color she ever was. Sometimes she was as light a Blue as she sky; a Blue that left her soaring still. At times her blue was of the ocean: with little flecks of white and green. When she was ocean Blue, she wanted to be anywhere but where she was. It was nostalgia and wanderlust and pessimism all in one shade of Blue. She was sometimes a Blue that was only found on brightly colored boxes and labels. It was a Blue that left her subtlety sad. Every now and then she was a Blue that was dark like the fading sky after sunset; a Blue that was close to Black. When she was that kind of Blue, she felt like a rainstorm. The Blue was like a battle in her body, but the pain was starting to go numb. It was her worst Blue; it was a lonely Blue.
She started to turn Black. It was a color full of nothing that snuck up on her slowly. Black was despair and hopelessness. But Black stole her power to care; it consumed her slowly, and took away her ability to fight back. As the Black within her grew and grew, it consumed all her other colors and trapped them deep inside where she could hardly even remember what her colors felt like. The Black held the colors back, and she was lucky if she was ever even brown or blue. When she was Black, it consumed her, and it didn’t fade away.
Eventually, she was Black for so long, that the other colors were no longer just trapped in the depths of her. Black drove out all her other colors. Her Yellow and her Lavender; the Green and the Red; her Brown and Blue; all of the colors where squeezed out in place of the tears Black had stolen from her. When Black came, it took the rest of her away. She bled her true colors out in rivers.
And the saddest part of it was, Black didn’t let her care. She was colorless, and she stayed that way.
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