Life is in Technicolor - Chapter 1

I stepped out the door. The same cool breeze that followed me into her house not long ago seemed to welcome me back into the chilly outdoors. I had become an outsider.1

The walk home was prolonged, mostly because I had nothing better to do than to stay out in the cold. The few leaves that littered the sidewalk leading to my home blew over my russet shoes and into the gutter, and while the sun hid behind a thick blanket of clouds, I hid my body from the cold with a hefty coat. 2

I was ten steps from the door; I turned around. I longed for that door to open again, for her to step out and speak to me. That, of course, was what a terrible realization I had: I loved her, I wanted to go back to her and tell her I loved her, but she remained in there, and I remained captivated by her. It was the worst feeling in the world, not being able to go back and tell her, but I just couldn’t put my love on the line and risk ruining what I had worked so hard for.3

I don’t know how long I was standing there in the cold, staring blankly back to that door. After a while, I suppose I just couldn’t take the bitter weather any longer (the tips of my fingers had gone numb ) , so I began my trek home, but one image echoed in my mind:4

She stood, her beautiful golden-brown hair relaxing on her shoulders as she looked at me with a magnetic smile. Nothing evil could ever come from that smile. She was the perfect life form, and I wanted to be with her. Her eyes were a deep hazel and splashes of sunshine yellow danced around her iris, like the calm in the eye of the tornado.5

Step after step, I couldn’t get her out of my mind, and neither did I want to. A soft breeze sent some chills down my back, and then another thought warmed my heart, the thought of kissing those soft strawberry lips, holding her in my arms. Protecting her from the evils of the world. I could just picture myself crying onto her shoulder, and she onto mine as we realized our passions. But certainly, I didn’t know if she encompassed any passion for me at all.6

The concrete grew cracked and my feet started to ache. I looked up to an oak, looming ahead of me in the soft luminescence of the clouds. Wending my way to it, I sat at the base of its great trunk for a moment. It was an ancient tree, by the looks of it, and was littered with the graffiti of lovers from its long years of steadfast marriage with the ground beneath. Hundreds of hearts and additions wove around the base of the trunk like a necklace, and I admired them for a moment. The couples that had left their inscriptions all had something that I had never experienced, they all had loved. Tracing my fingers over the foreign engravings, I unthinkingly stripped from my coat.7

I stood up, the gale now even more unsettling to my skin. I trudged myself back onto that concrete path and continued my pace. The sun had now started to lower itself, though it was impossible to tell to where because of the intense muted clouds. It was getting late outside, but it didn’t matter to me.8

A flock of birds flew over my head as I reached my own home. It was nearly dark now, and I stepped through the door, taking one last look at the beauty and freedom of the birds. The thought of flying. 9

Inside of the house was a mess, as usual. The temperature slightly warmer than that of outside. I ambled to my room and threw myself onto the bed.10

The ceiling, in a way, was an excellent means of keeping my eyes off the pictures of her scattered over my walls. I couldn’t help but think of her, so I tried my best to sleep. I pulled the blankets up over my fully clothed body and rested it under my chin, then closed my eyes. Yes, I was still thinking of her, and hell, I might even dream of her, but at least my mind wouldn’t be wandering.11

I’m not sure how long I was under those covers before I heard someone knocking on my door. The faint thump-thump-thump coming from the front of the house was almost completely silent, but yet I could hear it. It called to me from the back of my mind like a clear bell on a noiseless day. I tossed my covers off and stretched my legs out of the bed and started for the door.12

Without hesitation, I pulled the door open, and there I saw something that I had entirely not expected. There she was.13

“I was walking my way over here when I saw your coat against a tree. I had to make sure that you were alright…” She spoke with her sweet voice. She was an angel, -- a siren, a muse!-- serenading me with her entrancing words. “I wanted to talk to you about something…” 14