Colour
“Have you ever tried to describe colour to a blind man? No? I have. It’s difficult, that is, it’s difficult because colours are such an abstract concept. They are names for how our minds, our consciousness perceives light, for how we as humans comprehend photons hitting out retina. Their vibrancy and the feeling associated with the sight of them can only be experienced by those lucky enough to have the power of sight.”
The man before me screamed in pain halfway though my wondrous speech about the glory of colour, and I found it incredibly rude. Perhaps he was incredulous as to the situation he was in.
“P-please…”
“My favourite colour is red. Its warmth, its power, its rage. It just feels so… Encapsulating. It suits me well, at least in my opinion. See, I’m looking for this colour, this crimson beauty, to paint with… But normal paint is just so uninteresting. Boring. Bland. No, no it won’t do. So… I was wondering if I could borrow some… Blood?” I couldn’t hold back the grin from creeping across my jaw.
I pressed down on both handles of the garden shears, effectively severing his finger and crunching on hard bone. I never did understand pain, I just saw its a feeling, like when I touch the cold steel of my tools. Nothing special, just signals being sent to the brain. I was only borrowing a little of his rose vibrancy, and he was being so… Uncooperative. It really was quite pathetic.
‘Other colours are gorgeous too of course, the more luminous the better, I have a brazen orange room based on sunset that I just adore.’
“I don’t… No… No more.”
“Try this. Describe each of the colours of the rainbow to me. It will keep you sane.” I chuckled.
I wanted another to understand the beauty of colour, and it would keep him sane whilst I took the crimson paint I needed so dearly.
‘Blue, the ocean, the sky. A calming, beautiful, cool colour that imputes tranquility.’
The pain followed, and screams filled the dark chamber, but I saw him switching his mind, focusing on the colour. Just as I had hoped. He continued.
‘Green, emerald, grass. A colour o-of liveliness, of birth and sweetness.’
He seemed less afflicted by the next cut, but his echoing pain still rattled throughout my skull.
‘Orange, the radiance of the sun, a warm but bright colour, one shining with hope.’
Twice more, and I should have had enough for my red room.
‘Red. Anger, rage, blood. A vicious colour, hot, connotations of danger…’
He blacked out, as I took the last toe.
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