The Stories of Colors

Pink flowers, white clouds, blue sky. All things are beautiful with color. Color creates a light that many find hard to see. The bright colors bring out imagination, creativity, and stories. All stories have color, whether you imagine them, or if you physically see them. In other words, colors are the lenses through which we see the world.  

My screams could be heard for miles, but no one came to help

The sky was gray. The clouds were such a dark gray one could perceive it as black. The lightning appeared as a light yellow, and the rain was clear. I sat in my red car, with brown leather seats. The clouds rolled over my head and the lightning came down. I saw an orange spark on the front of my car. I watched, as the orange color engulfed my car. I couldn’t escape. The colors had surrounded me, yellow, red, and orange. My screams could be heard for miles, but no one came to help. The aftermath, ashes. Black color everywhere. What was once bright and beautiful, had now become dark and depressing. Although destruction and sadness had occurred, the story that these colors told continued to exist.  

I walked out of my big white house. I thought that it was ugly, but I had come to like it. After all, it was where I lived anyways. The green grass shined in the sunlight. The yellow and orange sun beamed down on my mansion. I loved watching cars drive by every day. Red cars, blue cars, black cars, white cars, and every so often green car. I liked guessing which car would drive by next. I walked around and pictured all the colors in my head. The next car I saw was white, and I could see it right in front of me. Red. The once white car was now red in color. I looked up at my house. A hospital. The color that represented hope and happiness, was now covered in red. A color of death and wrath. I could feel someone grabbing my arm and could barely see someone making a phone call. The blue and red flashing lights sped down the yellow and black street.  

I felt the breeze blow by me as I walked through the woods. The trees surrounded me, their brown bark, and green leaves. I took a moment to embrace nature. Embrace the noises, the clear water, and even the crunching of the colorful leaves as I walked. When I woke up this morning, nature walked right into my mind. I thought of the hues of all the things around me. They were all special to me, but everyone else would take them for granted. I understood the meaning behind the colors. What they represented and what they stood for. I could see the stumps of cut-down trees next to me and I sat on one. How could someone take away the one thing that our eyes are so happy to see? The color green was what they wanted to see. A little dollar bill that would never amount to the amazing things that our eyes could see. But all the colors around me were telling their own story like this small brown stump. And I was grateful for them. 

I couldn’t find my path, the one that led me here.

I sat down in my chair and worked. That was my whole life anyways. The colors white and gray. Surrounded by blandness. All I could think was how my life had gone to waste. I couldn’t find my path, the one that led me here. I couldn’t find my place in the world, and the cost was my life. The same colors filled my eyes every day. I woke up in my white colored house, went to my white colored office building, worked at my gray colored desk, and walked home on the pale colored sidewalk. I couldn’t see anything but those colors. My vision was limited by my idea that I would live a fine life. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing exhilarating. And nothing interesting. Just to push through each day and make enough money to live. As a child, I took colors for granted. I never looked up, never looked to the side, never looked away from the ground. Although these colors were visible to the eye, I could never really see them. So, I lived my life never knowing the magic of colors and the beauty of the world.