To Those Who Can See ~ An Original Story
Well, I got an inspirational burst while I was doing my social studies homework, (my mind tends to wander when I'm tired and bored) and I thought I'd write this. :)
Constructive criticism is encouraged, supported, and appreciated!
NOTE: IN NEED OF A BETTER TITLE, PLEASE COMMENT ONE IF YOU HAVE IT!
Also, here's a better version of the cover:
The Fallen Leaves
- Jana Wilson
I can't see color. I can't see the shade of someone's eyes or hair, and I can't see the hue of the sky. I can't see any of it. My world is filled with grays; different, unflattering shades of gray. Yet, it makes my heart soar to see even that one, tiny glimpse at what color is.
I'm color-blind. Completely, one-hundred-percent, fully color-blind. No, I can't see the golden rays of the sun. No, I can't see the calming blue sky. I see only gray, and black, and white.
I've been this way since I was born. Unable to see my lively surroundings, teeming with the brightness of color. A special case, doctors would say. It's unbelievable that she can't see any color! Your family history is beautiful, and color-blindness is typically more common in males anyway- just look at the statistics! Statistics lie. Maybe it is more common in the male species, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't see what most children can, does it?
I'm constantly stared at. Laughed at. Pointed at. "The girl who can't see color!" kids would chant and laugh. "Gretta, what's my hair color; Amber thinks it's brown, but it's really blonde, right? Oh, wait, you wouldn't know!" I would've succumbed to their constant bullying had it not been for Jana, my best friend. To almost everyone, she comes off as a hot-headed, arrogant girl with a smart mouth. But to me, she's so much more. She protected me from those snide remarks - shielded me, even! - and listening to her constant ranting and occasional anger bursts was the least I could do for her years of kindness.
Jana was something. To the outside world, she was always more reserved and seemed to have a permanent scowl set upon her face. But when we entered The Woods - our own little place - the light in her eyes, the happiness in her features, it was obvious to anyone what she really was like. To me, she's a humble, passionate soul who had already found her true calling.
Jana was an artist. She loved color. She once had thoughts of death, but painting had pulled her out of it. The colors would swirl on the canvas and it would make life worth living; to see those paints create something beautiful, to discover something new- it all made every struggle and hardship in life worth it. At least, that's what Jana told me.
I haven't found my true calling. Jana's is obviously painting, and though I'm color-blind, I can see the beauty in every brushstroke on her piece. Even if there's the smallest blemish on there, it somehow ends up looking beautiful anyway. As if Jana had meant for it to be there. It's as if it's actually the thing that makes Jana's piece perfect. Like it's just what the art needs.
Color is truly the only thing that holds Jana together. And I try my best to act natural around her, like I don't mind not being able to see what she can. But I always feel a pinch of jealousy, no matter how small, whenever Jana lets out a gasp at the autumn leaves that swirl in the air around us; an array of browns, and reds, and oranges. Or when she sighs at the brilliant, cheerful colors of the spring flowers that bloom to a size bigger than my fist. Or her laugh when she sees the summer trees in a full, green color. I know she loves how everything looks peaceful and alive with color.
But at one point in the year - though she'll never experience it like I do - I feel a hint of satisfaction, because I can see almost the same amount of color as everyone else. And that is in winter. I can see the pure white snow that blankets the ground, shimmering in the sunlight. I can see the dark color of tree trunks as their bare branches stretch out into the icy air. I can see the dull, gray sky that, for once, actually is gray. And it feels nice knowing that for those few moments, I'm not alone in this world.
Despite being almost level with everyone in the winter, my favorite season is fall. I can't see the color or the true beauty of autumn, but I love seeing the winds blowing around me, trapping me in a whirl-wind of leaves. I love seeing Jana laugh as we scoop the dry, crackling leaves into piles and jump into them, sending them flying out around us. I love seeing the trees become bare, as each one drops the leaves, one at a time. Jana and I have made it a game to catch as many as we can before they touch the ground.
She has an advantage, though, since she can see the flashes of color. All I see are gray smudges everywhere, making it harder for me to see them falling. Despite this, Jana hardly ever goes easy on me. And I like it that way. It makes me feel more normal, and less 'special', as the teachers call it. But I improve every year as I learn to notice movements around me sooner, and single out objects. This has proven to be a hard task for me, but I'm working on it.
For now, I have Jana, my parents, and myself, and that's all I'll ever need. Do I wish I had more friends? Yes. Do I wish I fit in? Yes. Do I wish I could see color? More than anything, yes. But I have my life ahead of me, and hopes for the future. If things go my way, I'll be seeing color in no time - whether it's Jana's definition of color, or my own.
So, what'd ya guys think? I don't know if you're interested, but it's one of those things I suddenly came up with, and I'm really interested in it right now. Let's see the responses I get, and based on that, I can post more chapters!
Also, I need definitions of color! Not scientific, boring ones, but creative ones that express your love for it! I want to add a quote at the beginning of each chapter. :)
~ Lexi :)