Some people say we see the world in black and white; while others say we should view our world as a spectrum of grey. Being 21 out in the world for the first time, I prefer to see the world in a colourful light. Grey is awfully too dull for my taste. Though, there are times when you can't help but to feel...dull. Times in which you walk across gravel covered ground that crunches under your feet, feel the wind pull against your body and you feel the breath of dread seep over you.
I stare up at the towering house that creates it's own shadows. There I am, a few feet from the porch, I could feel the chilling vibes it sent down my spine. Nothing good I would say, but when you are 8,824 miles away from home you don't have a choice but to ignore the apprehension. I begin to unload my belongings into the 200 year old Victorian house. Tickling with loneliness and strange comfort brings back unwanted memories. I can feel the dusty sand in my throat, I grip the boxes in my hands as a warning to my distracted mind as I can feel my hands shake slightly. I stop for a moment to breathe and do as my therapist told me to do when the feelings flood back. I go through the motions of breathing and trying to drown down the static that vibrates through my skin.
I begin to imagine the sand croved huts and bricks that were called houses. The heat blazing on the top of my dark, midnight hair as I ran across the desert floor, my feet burn as I ran. Blending into the dark silence as I scurry with haste as tears roll down my cheeks in an controllable hazy. Heavy footprints follow behind; yelling horrible words at my back as I ran for my life, I could feel my lungs ablaze in my chest as I pushed forward, I'm going to die and no one will even know! The bubbling tears burn my eyes as I weep at my cruel fate. Oh, how nights can be in this clogging air. As I ran tripping and falling against the unforgiving winds that sweep against the ground and upon my body. I ran into the narrow gaps between houses and shops to try evading the darkness close behind me. Gasping with pain whines as I stubble to get as far as I could. When I ran into a sold surface that made me fall back, I look up slowly and a pale man with a dirty, brown handkerchief over his nose and mouth looks down upon me as I lay in the burning, orange sand beneath me. With a smile he gave me he also offers a dusty hand that I hesitantly take as fear works against me in overdrive, I am helped up and I give me a watery smile. I hear heavy steps behind me not too far away. Fear runs it's ugly head into my chest as my lungs alight with worry for my life. Before I could panic the man grabs me gently from behind and places me in a hideaway door that looks like the bricks on the walls surrounding us. The men once more run pass in pursuit of their target that seemed to disappear from thin air. They kept going as the night dawned on and I was finally safe. I breathe a sigh as my body finally relaxes and I faint from exhaustion.
Afterwards, he took me from that hideaway. I was never found by the people who were out to harm me; he would soon learn that I am an orphan and have nowhere to go. The crazy part of my story is that he plans to adopted me; which is deranged! He does so proving to me many times in my new life that he is quite deranged in a tame way. Taking me in as his own child and providing me with what life wouldn't give me. That was about 13 years ago. I suppose, there is always more to remember, but it's good to not think of such things, especially when I see new bright colors and not monotonous shades. The colors of the rich red and dark greens give it that Christmas feeling; reminding one of open warm fires that shake the cold from your bones, and the rattling laughter of your family with charming, sunrising smiles. I smile softly at my thoughts, though the colours aren't so overwhelming either, with dusty golds and pale tans contract them evenly for a pleasant homey feeling, that is better than to see dust most of your childhood. Even so, I still can't get that foreboding feeling to leave me as I place boxes upon boxes in my new home, if only moving could be so much easier.
Once I had brought in my many boxes that surprisingly fit in my car, I flop down on the dark periwinkle couch that I have placed to the far back of the spacious living room. I swing my arms over my eyes, giving a long tired sigh; what I would give to have company. I turn my head to the right where my ebony flat television stands upon a creamy, cherry wood coffee table for now, but before I can get lost in my thoughts once more; in the reflection of the screen you can see a tall figure in the doorway. I stop, breathing shallow breaths as I stare for a moment. The figure had no definite shape of a man or woman; it seems to be in a mix of both genders, standing with no emotions, staring into a void that I could not enter. My body began to shake, there is nothing present within the room but you... it's going to be ok! Just breathe...I'm going to look, no one is there- the whispers began to move through the air of the room, swirling around my head and sinking into my ears.. I slowly inch into myself to the left; the feeling crushing my insides as fear holds my stomach in a grip, I place a hand on the top of the couch's fabric and my hand shakes slightly in expectation of what I could see. So, as I feel that dreadful feeling seep over my bones once more, that foreboding loneliness makes tears slide down my face unexpectedly, and I wipe up to see the reflection of my figure...gone? Gone! I look around, the dread and loneliness are gone and I see no one around. I wipe at my stain mark cheeks, feeling the wetness on my hand; I sigh with frustration and give a mocking laugh at my foolish scariness. I must be more tired than I thought, moving into another house is more work than I thought. I can't help but to feel anticipation fill my mind; some how I know this house is a total fixer upper, but in more ways than one.