The Color of Ideas

Color theory suggests that colors evoke emotion and meaning. This is why many restaurants use yellow and red in their logos: Those colors are proven to make people hungry. Dark blues are often seen on banks logos and institutional crests because they evoke trust and authority. And, of course, colors are used to evoke motion in fine art as well.

Weekly Writing Prompt: The Color of Ideas

Choose one to three colors from the color associations chart below. Note the different meanings. (Note: These are typical North American color associations and may vary in different cultures.) Create a character or place associated with each color. Profile the character(s) or setting(s), or write a scene about them.

Post your response in 500 words or fewer in the comments below.

Apply This Writing Prompt to Future Projects: Consider how you can apply color meanings to scenes, settings and tone in your work. What does it mean to your readers if your story is set in a landscape full of greens or yellows? How can you evoke these colors without repeating the names of the colors over and over again?


97 thoughts on “The Color of Ideas

  1. AvatarDiamondrose34

    The curtains lightly fluttered as a small breeze passed by. Feathers on a quill pen ruffled up at the edges. Dark blue ink that was drying stained its nib. Slowly dropping to the floor, a few drops of ink also left their mark.
    “Come on, just close your eyes. Sleep will come to you, little one.” A woman’s voice just barely louder than the wind came from an unseen part of the room. Her words did little to calm a crying child, “It will all be okay.” Making her way towards the window, a petite looking woman sat on the edge of a large bed. The drapery over the bed nearly obscured her from view. Moonlight which appeared to be a soft purple cast illumination around the room. She blinked away a few tears as she picked something up. Two or three teardrops escaped her and landed on her nightgown. Sounds of the upset child lessened momentarily. The baby’s wide eyes watched shadows cast by the moonlight before starting to cry again. Pressing against the surface of a nearby dresser, the woman dipped the quill pen back in the inkwell. Dark blue splattered on the golden rings and bracelets adorning her arm. Her lips trembled. An ornate butterfly hair clip was placed next to the paper, “You’ll be okay, my little one.” The baby’s small hands reached out to an empty space above its cradle. Stars twinkled against the backdrop of the sky as the night progressed.
    A few later, the door opened slightly and a maid peeked in, “My lady, I came to check on you and the baby. Is Drea okay?” Drea’s increased wails prompted her to finally enter the room. Her young but worn-down hands fidgeted, “My lady, are you well?” Only a few crickets from balcony broke up the unreassuring silence. Picking up the baby girl, the frazzled maid kissed her cheeks. She smiled as Drea settled down against her chest. A note suddenly caught her attention. The words were easily made out despite the smudges and smears of ink. The young maid quickly looked around after silently reading. A few small noises came from the baby as her eyes finally closed. Kissing Drea’s forehead, the maid hid the note in her skirt before pulling back the curtain. Blood covered the sheets.
    The sounds of her screams for help echoed down the corridor.

  2. Avatarwriter_sk

    The color swatches sat in the spare room – brown on white. It had been awhile since I had touched or felt the ocean. Thoughts that were scattered like these streamed through my mind. The off green on the dried parsley that was meant for making a sauce last weekend. Unwashed rags in the corner – stained but white underneath. Something propelled me to the basement then to my father’s old paint cans. He wasn’t a fix-it type person but still not unusual enough not to have a couple paint cans on hand. The table on which they sat was old; I recognized it for what it was- our coffee table from when I was five. The paint was cream colored and then a can of dark pine green that I recognized as having been used to paint my great aunt’s porch.

    Four white areas of comatose sky now spread around me; winter having arrested autumn. I wanted summer. I thought of dad waving from the porch peering over half glasses pretending not to supervise my plant watering. Yellow forsythia against the perfect purple of the lilac. Placeholder branches were now immovable and cold.

    Envy, anger, sadness – I didn’t know what brought me to the old high school. I wasn’t supposed to be on the grounds. Green football field and maroon and gold school spirit.

    A scandal they’d called it. My friend, my best friend, or so I thought – the assistant principal had called me a home wrecker. What would the students’ parents think if the news got out?
    I heard her pose that question to other faculty. I had drunkenly punched the little wife of the basketball coach at a pub known to serve underage kids from the very high school at which I taught. Wait – there was more. He had been carrying on an affair with me and he promised he’d leave her for me. He said his divorce was being finalized.

    As I entered the school my art room looked the same but after hours the stark contrast of natural light streaming in the window evoked a sadness within my stomach and soul. No students laughing and gossiping gathered around picking paint and mediums. No one asked my opinion on style or shading. I was alone with the idea that I’d ruined my career over a guy. I had gotten played.

    I picked up a paint brush and approached the already assembled canvas. Laying out the colors I dipped my brushes freely and filled the canvas without thinking. Black was my pain. Gray was my dad’s illness, red was my anger, yellow my bittersweet love loss, a soft pink was my students and the white spaces were mine. They were blank but they added something to the art all the same.

    Turning my iPod back on, I left the premises and broke into a light jog, orange sunset beautiful and warm wrapped me in its glow and I felt, on a spiritual level, that everything would be alright.

  3. Avatarinked_in

    His mind was racing, fueled by a constellation of mind-enhancers and stimulants. A flicker of an image of the drug dealer pulling out a gun made him wince.

    “Shake that junk out,” Michael told himself, moving his head erratically. His eyes were set on the pixelated rectangle that he once loved. Now it serves as a certificate of life or death.

    In his tiny apartment that overlooked an alleyway in a busy Manhattan subsector, his cat was sleeping on the window sill. The flat was a shoebox of a living quarter. A little cubicle with a messy bed, cans strewn about all over, and water stains on the walls. He covered the worst one up with a poster of Deadpool giving the finger.

    That is how he felt, looking through the glass monitor to words that were appearing rapidly on the screen. He bit the toothpick in his mouth so hard that it stuck to his molars.

    His edginess was nearly taken to heart-attack level when he heard the vibration of his cell phone on the desk. He picked it up, and the caller ID read ‘Mr. Yellow,’ which made his stomach twist. He slid his clammy finger across it and held it to his ear.

    “Time is a funny thing, Michael.” The voice on the line was professional and controlled, with a cadence of humored thoughtfulness, as if the speaker were a voice actor auditioning for a job.

    Michael, without hesitation, fervently whispered, “No it’s not, and listen here you sicko. I am working as hard as possible, but these things take – ”

    “Precisely! You’re so smart I didn’t even have to tell you to make it worthwhile, make it quality. You already know, don’t you, Michael. We’ve been over the stakes.”

    He squeezed the phone and nearly broke it. “Stakes?” His voice was raspy and high-pitched. “This is not a game you freak!”

    “Ah, ah, ah… disrespect will gain backward momentum, and the weight of the pendulum is heavy, Michael, so heavy.” The pity in the man’s tone sounded nearly genuine. “Now where do we stand?”

    He swallowed dry air and felt the pain sink into his chest. “I’m almost done. So you don’t do anything, ok? You said you were a man of your word. Right? You s-s-s-said…” Tears were developing in his red eyes.

  4. Avatarjwismann

    Note- This post is based on Season 3, episode 6 of the Revisionist History podcast by Malcolm Gladwell. The episode was titled “The Hug Heard Round the World” about Sammy Davis, Jr., his quest to fit in, and what happened when he hugged a racist President. It, and the entire podcast, is worth a listen.

    It was strange that they called her black. The women whose coats she checked every night wore black dresses. The men looking to remove those dresses later in the evening wore black suits. They all drove black cars, carried black suitcases and purses, and the shoes her husband shined just outside the club were almost always black. Why on earth with their obsession of black would they refer to her people as black?

    Then it dawned on her. She was a possession. Having her and her husband wait on them was a sign of affluence; a sign that they were better than the average cracker who couldn’t afford to rub two pennies together. They looked at her like she was an accessory to show off their wealth, power, and glamour. It made her feel blackened and cold like the obsidian counter she now rested her hands on. Everything black to the rich white people was to show their power and wealth, including her and her husband.

    The pale, white woman handed her black coat to the black girl behind the black counter and smiled, her white skin now showing all the way to her shoulder which was draped in a flowing black evening gown. She did all she could to avoid touching the black woman.

    “Filthy creature,” thought the woman as she slinked toward the ballroom.

    “Thanks for shine,” said the red-faced man as he flipped a coin to the shoeblack, “Maybe you can buy some soap to scrub off all that dirt, darky.” He laughed as he walked, black suit, black coat, and newly shined black shoes, into the club.

    The red-faced man handed his black coat to the black girl behind the counter and mumbled something under his breath as he marched into the club, his red nose protruding toward the food first, then toward the white woman.

    “My dear,” the red-faced man said as he took the woman’s arm, “it is so nice to see such white skin after all of the darkness out there. Why are there so many of them? I am afraid that one day they will take over.” The red-faced man was now walking with the woman toward the dance floor.

    As Sammy got up to sing the man turned to his wife, “See, why can’t they just be brown-ish like him? He hardly even looks the part and certainly doesn’t sound it. They should try to be more…white.”

    The brown-ish singer took the microphone looking yellow in the bright lights and perhaps more so for his acquiescence to play the part of a white man on the stage. The woman at the obsidian counter and the shoeblack looking in through the frosty-white window watched and listened, glaring. Even Sammy was a possession. They loved him while he performed, but he was not really one of them; he was here FOR them. He was not brown or yellow. He was black. Like the coat check girl and the shoeblack, he was just an item of property for white peoples’ use and amusement. Would he have to leave through the back door too?

    “Something’s gotta give, something’s gotta give, something’s got-ta GIVE…” sang Sammy.

  5. AvatarBeebles

    Seiko stands breathless amongst the newly flowered anemones. They flow in melancholy across the meadow, petals fusing with the cloudless sky, blurring the horizon along the brow of the hill. She breathes their scent, embraced in their deafening tranquility, smothering the distant roll of the Shogun’s thunder.

    In the centre bends a lone Osakazuki , spring leaves shimmering silently; come the autumn the green will bleed to the colour of the Li clan. Seiko watches village girls gather baskets of blooms in the its shadow; she wonders if she will ever see its colours change again.

    Graceful as the crane settling to sleep, she kneels on the lush grass, drawing her pale blue kimono under her. She gathers a posy with patience, examining each flower to brook no blemish in her bouquet. Lost in her work, the first she knows of the horsemen is when they appear on the skyline. The sun flashes off the crimson lacquer of their armour, clods of earth and blue flowers spit from the hooves.

    She watches the five riders pass along the crest, down through the combe leading to their village and the sea. Her son’s banner cracks high over their heads and she knows in her weakening heart why they come. When the scarlet letters finally disappear she inhales deeply once more, stealing the serenity of the flowers, enough to take her home.

    She has raised a fine man. Li Naomasa killed his first bear when he was twelve on a hunting trip in Honshu province. She remembers his face, smooth like a pebble, grinning and flecked with ruby petals, the bear’s head on the point of his yari.

    ‘He will make a fine Daimyo, ‘Lord Imagawa Yoshimoto told her. ‘He is fierce and defiant. He gave no quarter when the beast charged.’ And so he stood against his rivals, protector of their family, faithful to his lord, loyal to the emperor.

    The servants are weeping in the courtyard, heads to the dust, brooms by their sides. Three retainers she recognises only by their armour kneel before the open partition to the house. A fourth stands within by Naomasa. Her son’s armour grimaces from its frame. He sits cross legged upon the tatami, his hitatare hanging about his waist, belly exposed, greased with sweat. His wakizashi lies unsheathed at his side. He does not notice her approach, absorbed in his brushwork as he writes onto the mulberry paper.

    ‘You are back so soon?’ she asks calmly, though every muscle in her body aches with grief. He rises and catches her as her legs give way. His eyes, the colour of anemones, are fierce and moist. He kisses her cheek as he has a thousand times in his youth.

    ‘Lord Yoshimoto is dead. The Shogun’s army will be here before long. We must be ready.’

    Seiko nods and releases him of his burden. He resumes his poem: she places the blue flowers before the lacquered armour. With a last glanceat Naomasa she steps into the corridor, kneels and draws the partition shut.

    She thinks wistfully of the Osakazuki, alone amongst the anemones, waiting for autumn. She stands and continues to her room to prepare to join her son.

    1. AvatarKerry Charlton

      I felt so.much sorrow for Seiko in your story
      What a grim world you weave. It’s almost a form of writing similar to Shakespeare. How on Earth do you manage to write this way?

    2. AvatarBeebles

      Thank you Kerry, probably reflects my mood recently! I wonder if I can ask a favour of anyone reading this: I often feel my characters lack emotional depth, that they are cold, perhaps because I show TOO much rather than tell, get lost in the physical minutiae. Can anyone brave an honest opinion on this?

      1. Avatarjhowe

        One of the most effective aspects of writing is showing emotion rather than telling. In this piece, you did that well. I found this to be subtle and was impressed how you managed the showing part without so much as a peek at telling. As far as cold characters go, Seiko is anything but. One has to pay attention, but you revealed much about her feelings with so few words.

    3. AvatarReathaThomasOakley

      Since you asked….
      This beautiful story wonderfully penned has all the elements of classic tragedy. I’m not certain if it’s part of a longer piece or not, but I wouldn’t take anything out or change what you’ve written. The physical minutia, weeping servants, exposed belly, her legs giving way, the death poem, and especially the tree waiting for autumn, are anything but cold. If you wanted to expand, more of her thoughts could fill out the back story. And, since I’m commenting, you could always add a tiny bit more dialogue, as you did in the flashback to the bear hunt.

    4. Avatarwriter_sk

      Beebles- this was a thoroughly thought out piece. I agree that it was poetic and does show depth of character. I cannot answer your question except to say I felt what they felt. If you wanted to add more by way of telling instead of showing I don’t see how it would negatively impact your story but it doesn’t need, it in my opinion

      I assume there’s more to this. The references you made and terminology you used were so detailed. I hope you continue with more. Very polished and dedicated to the subject matter and setting.

  6. Avatarhillsworth

    “Mr. Pratt. Mr. Pratt. Are You listening to me, Mr. Pratt?”

    “Huh?” Anthony Pratt kept his right hand, outfitted in a high-cuff cotton glove, on one spoke of the drill press feed handle as he looked around, acknowledging his boss with something of a passing interest. “Sorry Mr. Deepenault, I must have been daydreaming again.”

    “Mr. Pratt, I’ve stood there at my office door for ten minutes, watching you drill the same hole three times,” he motioned to the door in the wall on the opposite side of the production shop.

    “Sorry Mr. Deepenault, my mind must be somewhere else tonite.” Anthony still had that ‘thousand yard stare’ in his eyes.

    “Mr. Pratt, your mind has been somewhere else for over a week now. You used to be our top performer, but recently your production has been lower than anyone else on the floor. You know how important these parts are and how we can’t putz around, especially now that the war is all around us.” Charles Deepenault rubbed at his whiskerless chin. “Is there something troubling you? Is your wife alright? Is there anything you would like to discuss in private in my office during your lunch break?”

    “Ah…” Anthony seemed to think about it. “No sir. I’m good. Thank you, though. I’ll get my numbers back up.”

    “Alright. If you are sure…” Charles headed back toward his office but pulled up short when he heard Anthony asking a question of him.

    “What do you think of the name ‘Colonel Yellow’?”

    Charles turned back to him. “Colonel Yellow? Sounds sort of like an oxymoron.”

    “What do you mean, an ox and moron?” Anthony asked, looking at Mr. Deepenault, not his work. Had he been watching his work, he would have noticed that he started drilling the same hole a fourth time.

    “An oxymoron. It’s when you use two words together but they mean opposite things. Like Colonel Yellow. When I think of Colonels, I think of power. Leadership. Strenghth. When I think of Yellow, I think of cowardice. Retreat and sneakiness. The two don’t really fit together.”

    “I guess you’re right, sir. I never really thought about it that way.” And with that, Anthony went back to re-drilling his hole.

    Later that evening, when Anthony entered their home, he beckoned for his wife. “Elva dear, could you come here?”

    “Yes Anthony?” Elva said as she entered the dining area, where her husband was busy rooting through the contents of a cardboard box marked ‘Air raids’.

    “We have to change his name.” Anthony seized a small tattered notepad that seemed to be completely filled with scribbles and doodles.

    “Who’s name, dear?”

    “Yellows name. It’s an oxydoral, or something like that.”

    “You mean an oxymororn?”

    “Yes. That’s it. How do you feel about Mustard?”

    (**Anthony and Elva Pratt were a British couple that invented the game Clue during WWII for something to pass the time while confined in Air raid drills.**)

  7. AvatarNicole Coffey

    Winter is respected man. He’s director of Oswald Legal Advisory’s east branch, as well as beta of Herston pack. He keeps balance between many things. He determines what the alpha will handle and takes on the rest keeping balance between the pack members. Winter delegates cases to the appropriate advisors and settles disputes between agents of each department. He’s also what kept peace between his parents until he moved out, when they got a divorce.

    Winter has silver eyes that shine blue when lupine. Their pale sheen matches the platinum gold of his hair. He is calm and collected as both his positions demand he be but responsibility weighs heavily on this man. When deals fall through, when cases are lost, when fights ensue, Winter feels it’s his fault, that he should’ve done a better job. He’s been depressed for a few years now. In the back of his mind he knows it but he can smile, and he laughs so he says he’s tired and ignores it.

    Though he’s a good friend because he has so much empathy and patience, the respect people hold for him keep them from getting too close. Winter is lonely. But, don’t be too worried for him. There’s a new pack member coming soon, Keegan who has fiery hair and a personality to match. Keegan will spark Winters inner strength, and defy the cycle depression has him in. They will balance, and love each other.

  8. AvatarJennifer Park

    29. The Accommodations

    [This follows “28. The Stench”, under “Jack-o-Lantern of the Soul.” You can see a listing of the Darth Barbara saga chapters—all of which are posted under WD prompts—by clicking on my name above.]

    “See, we could use ‘mb’ and ‘mv’ and ‘mf’ for the trilabials, and … for the circulars… ‘mth’ works, and… maybe… ‘ml’?”

    Barbara was glad to see that Mikhail’s career had progressed quite far. He was one of those patient types, relishing the intricacies of the kind of minutiæ for which aplomb-seeking diplomats like Barbara could never even feign interest. “I really don’t need to know how you work it out. Just work something out, yeah?”

    “It’s really good to see you, Barbara.”

    Barbara decided to be kind. “It’s good to see you, too. We should catch up.” She had no interest in that, actually.

    “Yeah. Now, the monolinguodentals should really be prefixed with ‘n’, although they sure do sound like ‘m’ to us.”

    “They all sound like ‘m’ to us, Mikhail.”

    “True, and that’s the point, right?”

    The underground overlords of the Mummummum had demanded, in addition to hydrocarbon payments, a true show of respect. Among many cultural accommodations, better romanization of their impossible phonetics. “Glad it’s you, not me.”


    “Why can’t we just map the color to the spectrum? You know, long wavelength is red, short wavelength is…”

    Subagent Omnes sighed reverently. “But, Your Excellency, that’s not how their color perception works. If something gives off red and green, we perceive it as yellow. They perceive it as two separate colors, red and green, together. And each color combination has…”

    “Yes, meaning, yes. Color-0 is life, renewal… or something.”

    “And there are five constituent colors, each with a different meaning, and they combine to have a different meaning… so they really have 32 primarily colors, and then the different shades…”

    Of course, all of these colors looked magenta to human eyes. “So, if color-0 is life, we should call it ‘green’?”

    “Exactly. And color-2-5 is, like, ‘blue-blooded’…”

    “So, ‘blue’?”

    “No, ‘tyrian’. That is the color we associate with nobility.”

    “F^@& this.” Barbara had had enough. “Do whatever you please. I’m done with this cultural accommodation $hit.”

    “Yes, Your Excellency.”


    Seriously, all that Barbara wanted was to have a chance to play dress-up again. That sounded a bit vacuous, and she did want this treaty to succeed, but what was the fun in…

    “What do you think?” Nolem, her attendant, interrupted her thought.

    “This is Glisten?” It was a new mode they were trying out. The Mummummum would allow the Union diplomats to wear something glamorous, but not too over the top. The color had to give off the exact color meaning official and respectful: color-0-4-5. “Celadon”, Omnes had decided to call it. Really, just magenta.


    “It’s OK.”

    “It’s not like…”

    Someone crashed in through the dressing room door. “Barbara! Your Excellency!” she exclaimed breathlessly. It was the subambassador.

    “Hey, what…”

    “You… you are being… being… dispatched.”


    “We have a resistant primitive planet… They need you to intervene…”

    Primitive planet. That meant that Barbara could go in angelic guise. “Where?”


    Barbara had never heard of it. “OK.”

    [And so it begins!]

    1. AvatarKerry Charlton

      WOW, I need to play sick for a day to get into all of this. I estimate I am at least three hundred years behind the rest of you. Love your writing style, crisp and tantalizing. ;

      1. AvatarJennifer Park

        Thanks! 60 chapters at 500 words each (although some are much shorter) make 30,000 words!

        Now that the timelines connected, I should read the whole thing through, too… make sure her character is consistent, figure out where this is all going, see how Mikhail or any other characters will return again, etc. I don’t know if I’ll have the time, though…

        I think I will be starting a new timeline at chapter 70, when the Kryzlamei re-uprising begins. So, 56-69 is Barbara continuing to consolidate her power, 70-89 is the Kryzlamei rebellion. All depending, of course, on what Jess throws at us!

  9. Avatarwriter_sk

    Not to the prompt:

    A journey long

    Your life begins

    And in my soul I hear your call

    Lay-ah, lay-ah

    Dawn breaks

    Your tired new body

    Placed next to my heart

    Sleep dear baby

    Then lay-ah

    A cry so sweet

    Lay-ah, lay-ah

    Gentle and low


    Now you’re here

    Bright and soft

    You answered my prayers


    A beautiful song

    Lay-ah, Lay-ah

    Call me now or during slumber

    Lay-ah is a dream

    Swaddled and calm

    Family wraps you in love

    Lay-ah, lay-ah tomorrow

  10. AvatarKerry Charlton


    The color Scarlet is associated with courage, passion and heat. Brad Pennington’s life might have been different, had he known that prior to meeting her. He had moved his small family to Dallas to start a new company, supported by his employer in Miami. At twenty three, he didn’t hesitate to take the challenge. He knew nothing about his new city as he grew up on the east coast.
    A bustling, vibrant, to be metropolis, twice the size of Miami, he settled in the proper side of Dallas and quickly built a company in its infancy, that billed out a million dollars in the second year. ‘Unstoppable’, he thought. He joined a proper church, sent his small children to bible school in the summer and with his wife by his side, they made deep friends with three couples their age, who had started families and proper careers of their own.
    Bill Johnson, however was the lucky one whose wife appeared to have stepped from the silver screen and when she looked at the other three men in the room, she took measure from each as if they hung on hooks.. Brad knew she carried trouble with her and pretended not to be interested. Scarlet then herself acted uninterested in Brad and played her game with the other two.
    One evening at a new night club, the four couples settled in for dinner and entertainment On a lark, Brad asked Scarlet to dance and on the floor the couple melted together as one. Neither dared to talk about the instant attraction but they clung to each other as they danced the night away.
    A week later, Brad’s wife mentioned she had booked a flight to Miami to spend some time with her family and had asked Scarlet and her husband to stay at their house to take care of the children. Brad was quite pleased and thought with both there, they would have a great time and they did. Friday came and another party and Scarlet wanted Brad and her husband both to go, but by this time, Brad was so enamored with Scarlet, he thought it dangerous to go and decided to baby sit and stay home.
    He fell asleep on his sofa later that evening, as Scarlet and Bill had not returned yet. Then around two in the morning he felt Scarlet touch his shoulder and sit with him.
    “I’m sorry we’re late getting home. I barely got Bill to bed in the middle room. He drank too much and is out like a rock. I missed you, can we talk?”
    “Of course we can, you know I like to talk.”
    “I miss my brother Brad. Would you mind if I kiss you? You know like you were my brother”
    She leaned over and kissed him gently, Then again and again with deep passion. He returned them eagerly but kept his hands off of her regardless of being aroused. It happened so fast, it startled both.
    “I can’t believe we’re doing this Brad, I’ve lost all sense of anything.”
    “I can’t either but it’s four in the morning. We need to each go to bed”
    Two people in love that shouldn’t have been yet they were, with a passion neither one thought possible. And yet their love was not strong enough for two proper people from two proper families that lived in the proper side of Dallas in the proper neighborhood. Life can be so cruel. In this case it was.

  11. AvatarDenise G. Monello

    The Rainbow

    Blackness surrounded his weary body, overtook his brilliant mind. He mourned for the days before the success, before the green entered his life–before the dollar. He never realized what he had to be released to maintain the security, to stay in the color of green. What once seemed like right components to a good life turned dark and murky, replacing his joyful life under the colors of the rainbow that drove his pleasure of simplicity.

    He searched for the place to unchain the burdens he carried on his back. Endless hours of work, constant calls, putting up with irrational people, along with the pressure of providing for his family, keeping the ties tight to his friends and relatives, trying to enjoy what the high paying job afforded him, all part of chasing the dollar. The sacrifice of your soul is not worth the perks. He needed to find his way back to the rainbow.

    His eyes surveyed the passing strip malls, office buildings and gas stations. The place he yearned for couldn’t be far. His GPS stated he had five miles to go.

    The busyness of the cold, concrete structures appeared to wane. Now he drove surrounded by nothingness. The GPS spoke out, “You’ve arrived at your destination.” His damp hands tightened on the steering wheel in anticipation. His eyes rapidly searched for the small sign. Leaning forward, he squinted and there before him was the sign, “Restore.”

    He cautiously pulled into the dirt filled parking space, kicking up dust and pebbles as he slowly drove. Quickly he exited the vehicle and threw on his backpack. He thrust out his chest and looked up to the heavens with a broad smile and slammed the door.

    He trudged his way through tall grass and rocky terrain until he reached the green and yellow leaves dangling from the slightly bent trees, creating a welcoming entrance. He stepped in. He was met by the enormity of the century-old trees proudly displaying their orange and yellow leaves, rising high into the blue sky. Streaks of red and pink surrounded the pure white, puffy clouds as the glowing orange sun began its journey beyond the horizon. Boulders and rocks rested in lush green nests. Wherever his eyes took him, he remained bedazzled by the purity of the colors, the rainbow of shades he once lived beneath.

    He climbed to the highest boulder, placed his backpack at its base and inched his way to the top. He stood with head angling upwards towards the beautiful colored sky, his arms wide open. He inhaled the power of the rainbow of leaves around him, filling himself with the power of red, not the power of money. Absorbing the warmth from the orange, not warmth from a Dior overcoat. He wiggled his body to the confidence the yellow bestowed upon him, not the confidence found in his job. He took in the sweet aroma of the green grass, not the smell of a new dollar bill. He eyes swept over the sky captivated by the shades blue, filling him with peace, not the blue of the suits that filled his closet. The white of the clouds reminded him of simplicity, not the stress hidden in the stark white office walls. The purple ignited his dreams, not the purple of the expensive couch in the boardroom. The pink reminded him of the love he had for his family, not the pink tie he was forced to wear at a client’s themed dinner party.

    He had found his rainbow, the colors purposely aligned in a welcoming arch to restore his body, mind and soul. At the end of his rainbow, there was no pot of gold, only the backpack of his burdens.

      1. AvatarKerry Charlton

        Oh, I really got into this story, saw all the contrasts and reflection to real life. You have done this in person, haven’t you? It is too sharp and real just from your imagination. My lord, what talent you have. .

        1. AvatarDenise G. Monello

          Thanks, Kerry and rlk67. It was an embellished take on my eldest son and his wife’s recent departure from his mother 🙂 and the financial world and its trappings to a simpler life in woods of upstate New York.

  12. AvatarReathaThomasOakley

    Color Her Southern

    “No, no, no!” Judeen was exasperated. “You ain’t been listening. What you been talking about is old school, 1980s thinking. This here is new, designed just for Southern women.”

    “All I’m saying is I went all the way in to Waycross, to the Rexall, and got my colors done, bought a bunch of stuff that Eugene laughed at when I put it on, made fun, said I wasn’t no more a Summer than his hound dog.” Angie was tired of arguing with her cousin, it’d been that way since they were kids, Angie didn’t never win.

    “Ha! Ha, ha!” Judeen pounded on her oilcloth covered kitchen table. “You just proved my point, there ain’t been a Rexall in Waycross since before Aunt Ida passed, now there’s a Walgreens with CVS across the highway.”

    “Alright, Judeen, you win, I’ll listen, but I ain’t gonna buy nothing, Eugene’d kill me.”

    “No, he won’t, ‘cause you’re gonna look like when you got married when I’m through.” Judeen stood, got the shoe box from off the microwave, and sat back down. “Now, Angie, this part’s the most important, what’s your favorite holiday, that ain’t Christmas, everybody wants Christmas.”

    “Well, I guess Thanksgiving, yeah, Thanksgiving.”

    “I just knew it,” Judeen beamed. “That means you need green and gold eyeshadow, like broccoli with cheese sauce.”

    “What?” Angie stared at her cousin. “You’re using food to pick out my makeup?”

    “No, holidays. That also means your foundation beige like breast of young Tom turkey. Now your second favorite holiday, we gotta get your lipstick color.”

    “Easter, I guess.”

    “Perfect, I was hoping you’d pick Easter.” Judeen closed her eyes. “I see it, Rosy Dawn, the color of the sky that first Easter morning.”

    After more questions and answers, Judeen rummaged through the shoe box until Angie had a bag of cosmetics to take home.

    “Judeen,” Angie said as she got up to leave, “why’d you say your method was for Southern women?”

    “Well,” she said as she pocketed the cash, “there’s two things Southern women know, cooking and religion, so I just combined them.” She patted Angie’s arm. “Eugene’s gonna just want to eat you up.”

    1. Avatarjhowe

      Judging from what I can gather about Eugene, he won’t like the green and gold eye shadow, but then, would any one? Very charming with the typical Reatha flair.

      1. AvatarKerry Charlton

        Down home again Reatha
        Your sparkle like little memories playing.around with my brain. I wonder sometime if you have packed. In memory more

        than I do. I loved the conversation
        One thing I know for sure, Angie’s going to get in trouble

    2. AvatarReathaThomasOakley

      Thanks to you all. Now a confession. This is what I remembered from a one-woman play I wrote a long time ago and presented at a fundraiser for a museum in a small Montana town where I once lived. In the play Judeen is on the phone, Bob Newhart style, doing color analysis. I’m not certain where the script is, I’ve moved many times since.

    3. Avatarhillsworth

      I’m thinking that Angie should ought to cook up a big ole pot of Possum Stew to lessen the beatin’ she gonna git from Eugene…
      Great story here, Reatha, you really brought out the hillbilly in this one, especially with the oilcloth covered kitchen table. Could I be so bold as to ask if Judeen lives in a dilapidated single wide trailer with a leaky roof about 2 miles off the closest paved road? You got a great style of writing.

  13. Avatarrlk67

    The boy detective surveyed the guests in the dining room.

    “You all had a motive,” he began. “Mrs. Pinkerton, you were hot with Ambassador Grayson and certainly had the insight to know where he would be at midnight.”

    “Quite perceptive, kid. Oooohhh…I love that. But it wasn’t me. Go away.”

    “And you, Mr. Green. Up and coming in your career, dollar signs in your eyes. The Ambassador clashed with you a number of times.”

    “Quite,” smiled Mr. Green. “But I don’t need to kill the bombastic fellow in order to grow my company.”

    “Madam Blueset. You certainly had the calmness to carry out the crime.”

    Blueset turned her head dramatically. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. But trust me, you’re wrong, my dear little detective.”

    “I think you, Mrs. Blackstein, have kept yourself quite hidden. Your eyes seem to tell it all.”

    “Nice try, kid.” Blackstein took waved her long cigarette holder. “Grayson wasn’t even dark enough to be in my league.”

    “Lady Yellow, I think…”

    “Careful! It was Mrs. White. Just look how frazzled she is!”

    Mrs. White turned pale. “Twas not! Liar! Leave me alone! You know I’m still sensitive about Mustard and his ilk!”

    “Oh, I was just joking, White.” giggled Lady Yellow. “And I also think the colonel is a little off color. Let’s just all be happy pappy now!”

    The boy stared at Mr. Purps who just cowered, and Miss Orange tried to hug him and cheer him up.

    “That leaves you, Mrs. Redford. You had the drive to kill grayson. What do you say?”

    She jumped up like fire and howled. “Uh..WRONG!! But you WILL solve this, kid, I know!!”

    Oh. Well, that was everyone. Now what? The boy slowly turned around while everyone began to stare and then laugh. “Some detective!” somebody yelled. “Grow up, boy!” Mr. Green chuckled.

    The shamed child walked out of the house, and crept behind a bush. He then pulled out a bloody knife and smiled. No one could ever suspect the real culprit… loyal sensitive, trustworthy BROWN.

    Encyclopedia Brown, boy detective…and murderer! HA HA HA HA HA!

    1. Avatarhillsworth

      A blast from the past… Good ole Encyclopedia Brown…who’da thunk it? Good play. Was kicking around the Clue spin myself, may still go that route but differently… Good story!

        1. AvatarKerry Charlton

          Loved the premise, reminded me of black and white, “The Thin Man” William Powell and Myrna Loy. Always at the end, all characters surrounding Powell, listening to his found solution.

  14. AvatarAMcGovern

    As Jim woke up to the sound of his wife leaving the bed, he couldn’t help but take one last look at her bright, orange mane. It glowed in the darkness, and as she left the bed she turned around and said to him “what a beautiful morning Jim!”. Jim didn’t respond, instead slicking back his jet black hair out of his face and turning his back to her to get a few more minutes of sleep. A few moments later, she was out the door. Jim finally had peace, quiet, and darkness. But not for long, as his daughter’s bright green hair lit up the hallway outside of his room. She rushed in, jumping on the bed and just missing the half-awake Jim. She screamed at the top of her voice “Are you awake yet? Are you awake yet? Are you awake yet? Lets do stuff, come on I wanna do stuff”. Now wide awake, Jim quiets his daughter with the words “Its a surprise, we will do stuff later”, then proceeds to head to the bathroom. When the light turned on, his hair began to suck up the light in the room, it always had. Most people had been born with vibrantly colored hair, which gave them very outgoing personalities and the ability to light up a room, but Jim was not most people. As he sat on the toilet, he began to dread the day ahead. Once again, he would have to go into society with a rare disorder, one that has severely affected him throughout life. His mother had once said to him that he “sucks the life out of any room he enters” and that he’s “no fun to be around”. It was true. In the same way that his daughter is energetic and his wife is optimistic, he was scared and quiet. His hair hadn’t given him a “power” but instead a liability, a burden that he has carried for the past 36 years of his life. He has tried to dye his hair, shave it off, and even took experimental pills to treat his condition, to no avail. As he unlocks his door, he ignores his daughters incessant comments and went back into his bed, where he cannot be bothered by the vibrant world around him.

  15. Avatardahlb19

    He sat, cross legged at the grass bottomed opening of the mountain with his brothers, not blood but in spirit. The gentle wind caressed his shaven head as he meditated. He and his brothers did this often, regularly in fact being that there wasn’t much to do excpt read, meditate and pray at the monastery. He left everything that was dear to him for the monastery. Nobody really knows why he made this choice but he seemed at peace as a result, so we left him alone. He was only about 22 when he arrived which was very odd being that the majority of the monks were at least 20 years his senior when they made the decision. We made sure he knew what this meant but he stayed steadfast on running from whatever haunted him and we welcomed him all the same. Though it didn’t keep me from wondering why a man as young as 22 would chose to devote his entire life to prayer and meditation when at his age, life was filled with opportunity and wonder.

  16. Avatarardizzoner19

    Identification Dossier
    Name: Jethro Clarke
    Nickname: “Red”
    Rank: SSA
    Law Enforcement Branch: Federal Bureau of Investigation
    Sector: Behavioral Analysis Unit
    DOB: July 4, 1989
    Age: 29
    Status: CLASSIFIED
    History: (Interview from the Director of the FBI.) “When Clarke first joined, I observed many characteristics”
    R: “What kind exactly?”
    D: “Courage, Passion, Inner Drive, Fire, and Tenacity.”
    R: “All positive?”
    D: “Yes, SSA Clarke has been assigned to the BAU since [REDACTED] in [DATA EXPUNGED]
    R: “Can you tell me anymore?”
    (Next questions are incomprehensible, but one can assume are too much.)
    D: “Nothing more, this interview is over.”
    In July of [REDACTED] all members of the BAU were found as hostages in an abandoned steel mill. Whoever had captured them is still out there. SSA Clarke was found to be missing. The search is ongoing.
    Writer’s note: I drew inspiration from SCP, an online entity site.


    It wasn’t long before the men and women in black had gained power and wealth across the whole country. The power and wealth they possessed and gained at a rapid rate was placing them far above any other color class in society.

    After the blacks rose to power, the whites and the greens became the most oppressed groups in the country. Whites and greens were being jailed and suppressed everywhere as the blacks saw them as the biggest threats to what they were doing.

    Although the blacks were doing everything possible to maintain power and keep the whites and greens under control, the whites always seemed to remain hopeful. As a blue myself, it was so empowering to look on and see the optimism of the whites. It is customary under the ideals of my color class to always be calm and I certainly do not have what it takes to be as stubborn as the whites in the sense that they never stop hoping for a better world.

    The greens on the other hand, they were easily the biggest threat to what the blacks were doing. Greens were being jailed and taken from their communities in much higher rates than the whites and for good reason in the eyes of the blacks. The greens were the voice of all of the suppressed groups at this time while the blacks strived for total power. The life of the greens was now based around surviving the blacks attempts to diminish them and taking down the black empire.

    Growth and renewal were the main beliefs of the greens, which is why this scared the blacks so much. Every color class in the country was struggling under black rule, aside from the blacks themselves. The greens represented the necessary change to overthrow this totalitarian black government and restore the country to the prosperous and growing nation it once was.

    Green became the color of the rebellion against the blacks as time passed and the color only gained more meaning while the class grew stronger. Every color class began to merge into the green class and form the army of rebels against the unjust government. Never before had people switched color classes, as you were born into your class and shared the values of that color. This was different though, and it was time for the nation to be restored.

    The greens launched an all out rebellion against the blacks and swiftly defeated them with the power of all of the color classes merging together. Black ideals were dispelled from the country and the once prosperous nation had now returned to its prior state. Everyone in the nation was united under the color green and the “United Nation of Green” became the country’s official name as they became one of the most successful nations in the world. That was now 30 years ago and I couldn’t be happier to be living in this great nation today.

    1. Avatarhillsworth

      And then one day about 140 years later, someone took enough offense to the black flag and black statues that still adorned certain key areas of the United Nation of Green as reminders of that great Nations troubled and tumultuous past, and had a judge rule that the statues should be destroyed and that no one should display a black flag….oh wait, sorry, getting your story confused with our own heritage and recent developments…
      On a side note- well done. I appreciate this story.

  18. Avatarsodorar20

    Dandelion Fields (Yellow): A place where all one could have ever wanted exists. Fame, fortune, love. You name it. There is a twist however that may seem insignificant to the eye of the youthful. There is no satisfaction. You are simply given everything you’ve ever wanted without lifting a finger. While one may be enjoying this reality, hard workers from all walks of life would have an opinion on you. Some would look down on you. Some would envy you. Sone don’t know of you. The fact of the matter is that if you find yourself in Dandelion Field you become afraid of these “outsides” and their opinions of you as you live in your bubble of what is supposed to be happiness, but is really fear and weariness.

    The Blanket State (White): A state one might refer to when they believe that they know all that there is to be known. One would see themself as a God who could not be reckoned with nor ever be wrong. Knowing this, an individual in The Blanket State has come to terms with the rest of societies inferiority. However, the way this individual looks at society has caused society itself to treat this person as an outcast and to think of him as somewhat of a smart alek. And knowing this, the individual is forced to live a life of emptiness and exile from society.

    The Woman by the Rivenna (Blue): There she sits by the flowing water in perfect serenity. Meditating. The wind blowing through hair. Her breath smells of sparment and her grin gives off the sensation of great serenity and peace with the world. You walk up to her and chat, as she seems to be someone of great importance while hardly trying. Through you conversation you both tell stories of the past and laugh as you reminisce of better times. You feel like you’ve know her forever. She reaches out and holds you hand. Goosebumps run own spine. And you feel at peace. More open than since you were a small child. Recovering at last.

  19. AvatarSheahang20

    Colors are what make us feel emotion and can change or lives or how were thinking. Red shows many different things but it enhances passion and emotion in a high way because it is used so often and it is used many different ways. Red could be used love,passion,strength,hurt,anger and more. The color Orange si used to show positive and strength,vigilance like how it is used in the Irish flag with an orange middle peace that is actually supposed to be gold but it has changed in the last couple of hundred of years. Yellow is a sigh of joy,danger,summer and also cowardiance. Green is one of my personal favorite

  20. Avatartuttle

    Didn’t mean to post that last one
    This is the complete one

    It was a normal Monday morning for Kenny, but for some reason he was feeling happy and awake, rather than the usual grogginess that he experiences every other morning, especially on Mondays. He noticed that his entire dorm had been painted yellow, probably by his roomate, Chris. Chris was a pretty strange kid, every morning when Kenny woke up, he was gone, but he’d always get back around 7:30, right as Kenny leaves for class; and of course, that’s what happened this morning. After Kenny get dressed and brushed his teeth, Chris walked into the dorm, and when Kenny asked why he painted the room yellow, he claimed that he never did. But Kenny didn’t put much thought into how his room changed colors overnight, because it didn’t matter and he was still feeling good. He walked out of the room and walked to class, arriving exactly on time, just before the professor started his lesson. As Kenny sat down, he started to feel productive, and thought to him self that from this point on, he’ll try his best to pay attention in class, and strive to achieve the best grades possible. Since he’s putting so much money towards this class, it makes no sense to sleep through the lectures and get failing grades. Just then, Kenny noticed something strange, this classroom, which before had white walls, now had green walls. He wondered why all the walls around him were mysteriously changing colors, but he didn’t let this distract him from taking notes and attempting to grasp what the professor was saying.
    For the rest of that day, Kenny was as happy and productive as ever. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a day as good as this, and when he opened the door to enter his dorm, he saw a group of about five people wearing suits there to greet him. After extreme confusing at first sight, they quickly explained to him that he was the guinea pig of an experiment on whether certain colors could affect your mood. They questioned him about how his day went, and Kenny happily explained to them that today was a great day, he didn’t even care that they performed an experiment on him without his permission. The people in suits were ecstatic to hear this, and they all at once shook his hand, and left the dorm.

    1. Avatarjhowe

      I commented on the incomplete story below, so thanks for the clarifications with this one. I’ve posted by mistake before and you have to sit there and wish for a delete key that never materializes.

  21. Avatarmorans19

    The blue scene: the sky, the swimsuit, the water, the diving board. Kaylee took one breath in, and slowly let it out. Her years of dedication and practice had brought her to the high dive. She remembered her mom holding her in the water, her sister pulling her around on a floatie, and her weekly swim lessons over the last summer. All she could do was stay composed. All there was before her was a 10 foot fall, into 10 more feet of deep blue water. Behind her were dozens of kids itching to make their third or fourth jump of the day. This was Kaylee’s first jump of her life. She felt the board shaking from the kids behind her, the wind softly nudging her towards the edge, and the weight of hundreds of eyes staring at her. She took a big breath, and stepped forward. With a splash, Kaylee thought she had just fallen into space. The weightless darkness that now surrounded her made her sprawl out, leaving her disoriented and without air. She could feel her heart beating, and felt her lungs holding in what they could of the air she had taken right before her plunge. All the light had seemed to fade, right until she opened up her eyes. So close yet so far was the water surface. But the blue color the pool was once deep with was now a golden yellow. As she reached for the water’s surface, she felt the golden glow hotter and hotter. A splash of her head on the surface, followed by her family’s cheers. Kaylee had finally overcome her fear of the deep end. She excitedly swam to the pool ladder, and enjoyed the rest of the day in the bright burning sun.

  22. Avatarjakepstein

    A man who is blue lives a lonely life. That same blue man lives the same day, day in and day out. His life is very plain, but it is calm. It is filled with peace, yet it feels somewhat gloomy. The blue man earns for a life filled of satisfaction, but in his inner workings he knows it will come with patience. That patience that has been rubbed off on him since he was born. It is just the blue way of life. It is how the Blue live.

    The blue live lives in desolation. They spend their time alone; in the workplace, at home, during free time, and pretty much any other time. Except for one special occasion. The Festival of Blue. The one time a dedayear when the Blue people can socialize with each other. But once that is over, it is right back to the same old same old. Ever since the Blue people came to be, the mighty Ruler Bluethius has held power. That is where the story of the Blue man takes place.

    One Blue day, The Blue man began to follow the same schedule that he follows day in and day out. He reads over his manual for his color associations.

    “Ok, patience, honor, grace, and trust. That is who I am, that is who I will be.”

    The Blue man continued on with his day, made his blue waffles, and then made his way out the door to his car. He followed the same route everyday to work and nearly missed the same blue light everyday, right at the intersection near Bluebucks and Bank of Blue. He pulled into the same parking lot and the same parking spot every single day at Bank of Blue. The Blue man got out of his Car and then proceeded on with his day at work.

    Once he was the elevator module he got a sudden awakening. He finally woke up and realized what Bluthius was doing. Bluthius created a miniverse, where he had people working continuously to harness massive amounts of energy to power his Ultimate weapon. He soon realized that the people that are being used to make this energy are his own people. His people were inside a miniverse. This idea was way too much for him to grasp. Day in and day out they work, but for what. Only the Blue man knew the answer to this and he was determined to put an end to his reign.

    The blue man ran right out the doors of Bank of Blue and hopped into his car. He decided to turn left instead of turn right on blue street, zipped right past McBlonald’s, and took a right turn on the street before the Blue people Capital…The Capital of Blue.
    “I really wish that Blu

  23. Avatardemiccot

    A boy looked out into the vastness of the ocean. He could feel his feet breaking the surface of the cold, cold water as they dangled off of the dock. His eyes were locked forward, in awe of the infinity that seemed to sit before him. The water was silent, not a ripple but the ones made by the boys pale feet. His expression was blank but his eyes shone so wonderfully as the sun hit them, a brilliant blue hue just as vibrant as the sea before him. All around him was calm, as he would have wanted. As somberness hung in the air the child raised his eyes from the water. The sun was being pulled further and further past the horizon, changing colors as it sank, going from yellow, to pink, to orange to finally a brilliant yellow again just as its last light was enveloped by the dark. Above him now was the moon, white and bright as it had always been. The once blue and serene waves were now black and animated below the sunless sky, and they reflected the white of the moon.
    The night did not scare the child. The darkness of the sea and sky and the silence that surrounded him did not at all cause him to escort himself to his home. So much thought behind those big, blue eyes. Calm, but sorrowful, curious yet cautious. He had been perched at the dock all day, with the fisherman doing their work around him, not minding him at all. He was always there, at least once a week, to watch the waters roll by and to take in the colors around him. But he had brought important with him: a fishing rod. He pulled it from a large sack behind him and began to assemble it slowly. He pulled his feet from the water and stood tall on the dock. He looked out over the tar-like water and he closed his eyes. He held the rod over his shoulder and he flung it forward.
    He crossed his legs and sat down, fishing rod held like a vice, and waited. If there was one thing he could do, it would be to wait. Minutes when by, and then hours, but he never broke position. He never closed his eyes for too long or moved to another position. He just waited. Just as he was about to close his eyes for some rest, he felt something. His eyes widened and looked up to the tip of the rod. It began to bend as he got another pull, and then another, until one huge pull lifted him to his feet. He started reeling and reeling, until he could see it splashing toward him. It was big. Very big. Maybe big enough to feed his family for a few days. He was tired of waiting for his family to just fix themselves, and tonight he was going to find something to help. Finally, with one last pull, he ripped the 102 lbs catfish from the black water. The catfish was as white as the moon, and the boy couldn’t wait to bring it home.

    1. Avatarhillsworth

      As a fisherman myself, I can associate with the waiting. Some days you catch a bucketful quick, some days you wonder why you wasted all day for nothing. Its when you land the WHOPPER as your antagonist did that keeps you going back for more… good job and good story!

  24. Avatarscotty1207

    Dark… Damp… Cold… Hardly any sunlight pierces the cavern due to the shear dept of the mighty walls encircling me. Being down here for to long may drive a man completely mad in grief and anxiety. Cramped, and with claustrophobia setting in throughout my mind. The pitch black made my eyes bleek and useless. Still my eyes have led me here so far, chasing a distant but illuminate hue. Lavender fluorescents grow brighter with each step and reveal truths to me one by one.
    My name is Rolly Jr. My father was Royal Rolly, part of the search team for the Amethyst Hall. My father was a seeker of truth, and wisdom. Following in his footsteps I have arrived to the magnificent gates of a dull sheen… where my father’s truth is hidden. As I enter the bright crisp light of a waters reflection strikes my eye. Blinded I shake as a wave of understanding and balance rushes over me. Like a clear summers afternoon, I feel complete and peaceful. The empty cavern is no longer a concern, however it was the journey that made this experience. Dark, cold are no longer of any concern to me. I have found my father, and my father is peace.

  25. AvatarLukeduke921

    Jacob was walking on the concrete on the way back to his house from work. Buried in his winter jacket wind seemed to slice through him making him feel cold. Jacob was blue. This blueness was a common feeling for Jacob he thought to himself that most days he felt blue. Jacob felt blue every time he saw the emptiness in the world, in his life, at his work, in his home. The blueness cut through his soul like the winter winds cut through his jacket.

    He arrived to his house with a visitor at the front door. Jacobs ex-wife was standing outside his house. Cindy was tall thin and had bright red hair. This hair reminded him of his past joys and passions that have been extinguished by life. Now this hair reminded him of the loss of many things.

    She didn’t say a word to him and he didn’t say anything to her. She came in with Jacob as he opened his front door. Jacob didn’t care and why should he. Jacob found his way in the dark house into his room searching the the light switch. tripping over cloths and garbage Jacob finally found the light. He switched it on prompting a blinding light in the center of his room. He stripped down out of his work clothes being sure to be quick about putting on his pajamas in order to stay warm.

    Jacob walked outside of his room only to find that the red haired woman was making tea. He didn’t say a word but went to his couch to sit down and read. The pages of the book were chilling his fingers.

    Silently Cindy went to the couch with two cups of tea. Jacob is handed the tea making sure to take it with both hands and he sips it lightly not to burn his mouth. The tea was something he never has had before.

    “what kind of tea is this?” Jacob asked

    “Green tea.” Cindy responded

    With no other way to express his gratitude for Cindy’s gift Jacob gives her a silent kiss on the cheek and in a soft voice says.

    “thank you”

    1. Avatarjhowe

      I’m not exactly sure what’s going on with Cindy, but i like it. I find it intriguing that she came in the house and Jacob went on with his routine. I suspect one of them may be in some state besides being a living person, but I may be wrong. Thought provoking.

  26. AvatarSullivanj19

    There was a woman that lived across the street from me in town. The only time you would ever see her was at the crack of dawn when she would get in her UberBlack ride to work or at midnight when she would come home. Anyone that can afford an UberBlack has to be someone of some importance and this was evident also through the way she presented herself. She wore a black suit perfectly tailored and carried a black briefcase filled with her belongings. She must have a stylist living somewhere in her mansion because she was always dressed formal and put together. She always had a straight face and looked focused. We live in Hasbrouck Heights and she commuted from there to New York City everyday. I’m not sure exactly where she worked but I could see the office building from my attic window. She had a corner office on one of the top floors overlooking the city through her black tinted windows.

    Right next to my house was an old victorian cape that looked like it had been preserved for decades. The wood on the outside was slowly peeling away and was soft and weathered. The thing that stood out the most however was the bright purple paint that was lathered over the old wood. Yes, you heard me, her house was covered in purple paint. I never really bothered to talk to the old creepy lady that lived inside. She always seemed to occupied with her cats and whenever I tried to talk to her she would tell me stories about when she was my age. Maybe I should’ve listened to her more because she was 95 years old and could have taught me a lot of valuable lessons. She lived through multiple times of war and peace and fought through times like the great depression. While all this knowledge could be valuable the last time I tried to have a conversation with her she looked into a crystal ball and told me I would get married in 10 years and tried to read my palms to predict the future.

    During medieval times there was a great man named Hercules. Hercules was a war hero known for his courage and strength in battle. He charged into enemy lines fearless wearing his red suit of armour. He stuck out from the rest of the crowd but this was fine with him. He slashed out the hearts of his enemies tainting the battlefield in red blood. He had been known to take out entire armies all by himself. It is told that all of his drive to fight came from never ending love for the princess of the kingdom. He did everything he could to impress her. He brought her red roses and showed off the many awards he had earned for his service in battle. Everything Hercules did he did with passion and the results of this where ever so glorious.

    1. Avatarjhowe

      Kind of a three-parter this was. It was obvious you put a lot of thought into each part, but i think I liked Hercules the best, especially the end and the results that were ever so glorious.

  27. AvatarZachMack17

    In life, we are faced with decisions everyday. We choose our own paths and face the consequinces of our actions. This is something young billy had to face. After the passing of his father, Billy was overwhelmed with emotions. The emotions swallowed him whole and he remained in anguish for the next year. He made bad choices as a teen boy, but fortunately turned his life around. He opened the second blue door as a man. Started a family and lives a happy life. On a stormy night, not so young Billy was driving to the nearest grocery store. A task he often does for his family. Terrrential downpours flooded the streets and lightning lit up the grey sky. The careless man checked his cell phone and by the time he looked up t the loud honking noise he saw white headlights in front of him. Billy realized the severity of his careless mistake. He had a flashback of a lesson his father had taught him.There our three doors in your life, Black door number one, Blue door number two, and the white door number 3. Opening that black door will lead you to darkness despair and sorrow. Opening the blue door will lead you down a balanced path for an average life. The white door will help you be pure and live a happy life. He soon realized he had opened that black door by texting and driving. He caused a major accident and realized he is lucky to be alive. The phone is so intriguing and important that he had to look. The power the cell phone and modern day technology has over billy is not good. Billy relates this to the black door knowing he has to fix his mistakes. Billy decide to rectify his situation. He now teaches classes and speaks to young drivers about texting and driving. He knows he opened the white door by doing this. Impacting lives and helping people be safe is a pure; genuine action that Billy wants to do. He uses the same door metaphor to his students as his father once taught him.

  28. Avatarzayasa20

    There are three people who relate their personalities with colors. One feels as if they connect with the color black, one with pink, and the last one with blue. The person who associated with the color black tends to be more serious, adequate, and is considered to be more mature. They follow rules line by line and handle situations with a one-sided view. The one who believes to correlate with the color pink was more outgoing, creative, and heartwarming. They are open minded and try to understand others rather than just having it their one way. The one who connected with blue was found to be a balanced between the black and the pink. They were usually peaceful and patient in every situation. They are respected because they are very trustworthy. None of the colors are superior to the other, they are simply the different types of personalities that the people have.

  29. Avatartuttle

    It was a normal Monday morning for Kenny, but for some reason he was feeling happy and awake, rather than the usual grogginess that he experiences every other morning, especially on Mondays. He noticed that his entire dorm had been painted yellow, probably by his roomate, Chris. Chris was a pretty strange kid, every morning when Kenny woke up, he was gone, but he’d always get back around 7:30, right as Kenny leaves for class; and of course, that’s what happened this morning. After Kenny get dressed and brushed his teeth, Chris walked into the dorm, and when Kenny asked why he painted the room yellow, he claimed that he never did. But Kenny didn’t put much thought into how his room changed colors overnight, because it didn’t matter and he was still feeling good. He walked out of the room and walked to class, arriving exactly on time, just before the professor started his lesson. As Kenny sat down, he started to feel productive, and thought to him self that from this point on, he’ll try his best to pay attention in class, and strive to achieve the best grades possible. Since he’s putting so much money towards this class, it makes no sense to sleep through the lectures and get failing grades. Just then, Kenny noticed something strange, this classroom, which before had white walls, now had green walls. He wondered why all the walls around him were mysteriously changing colors, but he didn’t let this distract him from taking notes and attempting to grasp what the professor was saying.

  30. Avatarscotty1207

    Dark… Damp… Cold… Hardly any sunlight pierces the cavern due to the shear dept of the mighty walls encircling me. Being down here for to long may drive a man completely mad in grief and anxiety. Cramped with claustrophobia setting in throught out my mind.

  31. AvatarNot-Only But-Also Riley

    Mazarine looked longingly out the window at the Earth. It now seemed to be nothing but a marble, and their ship was only moving farther away. She wondered why her sisters didn’t seem to miss it like she did, and a great sadness overwhelmed her, rushing over her wave-like to the point of making her body shake.

    “What is it Mazarine?” Dahlia asked, approaching from her room. Dahlia’s deep, red hair was tangled and messy, and her voice was a croak, but even just after waking up she was beautiful. Her face had a constant glow to it, and her spirit just seemed to radiate heat.

    “Nothing,” Mazarine said, back to her normal calm self, for the sake of her sisters. “You’re up rather early aren’t you?”

    “Well, I have a date,” Dahlia said excitedly, taking one of the gel packs they had to eat and squeezing it into her mouth. Of course it was cherry, her favorite. She sat across from Mazarine.

    “A date?” Mazarine asked, confused, “How are you going on a date when we haven’t been on any planets for almost two years now?”

    Dahlia smiled, her lips wide and red, even without human lipstick.

    “I’ve been talking telepathically with some guy out on one of these asteroids.”

    Mazarine sighed, “Dahlia, you know these asteroids are all too tiny to have any life of interest. This guy is probably nothing but a germ.” It came out much harsher than Mazarine had intended. Dahlia stood angrily.

    “You’re just jealous!” she shouted. Her heat seemed to grow, and the spaceship became sweltering.

    “I’m just trying to be rational…” Mazarine breathed. She really was sorry, but what she said was likely true. There just weren’t good conditions for advanced life in this quadrant. Dahlia tossed the empty cherry gel pack to the trash and stomped off. Mazarine saw Plum’s bedroom door crack open slightly, and one purple eye peek out.

    “She’s gone,” Mazarine whispered, and Plum’s door flew open.

    Plum was the shortest of the sisters, with large, poofy hair, and a constant smile. She was loud and spoke whatever was on her mind. Most of the time, what was on her mind was what most would never speak.

    “Wow. Dahlia’s louder every morning,” Plum rolled her eyes, and sat where Dahlia had been sitting.

    “It isn’t her fault. We’ve been cooped up in this ship for too long. Any chance at life is seeming nice right about now,” Mazarine explained. She remembered when it had only been her and Dahlia, before Plum had joined them, and long before they had entered this quadrant, where Earth was. Many of the quadrants they visited then were teeming with life, and both her and Dahlia would have fun, although with Mazarine always keeping things respectful.

    “You forget,” Plum said, “I wasn’t there back when you two were in other quadrants.”

    “I know,” Mazarine said, “and don’t read my mind this early in the morning. It tends to… wander.”

    Plum laughed, “Shit, what does that mean?”

    Mazarine eyed her with a mock anger. There was a time when their ship had never heard any profanity. With Plum aboard, it heard a swear word just about every other minute.

    “So, you gonna stop Dahlia from beaming onto that asteroid?” Plum asked, moving her hand around to make a gel pack float to her.

    “I don’t know. Maybe I oughta just let her go down there,” Mazarine turned the idea over in her mind.

    “To be completely honest, I could use some time off the ship too,” Plum said. Dahlia suddenly returned to the room, and the temperature seemed to rise. Her hair was done, and she was wearing a tight, red dress she had gotten from Earth. Although the makeup she’d gotten from Earth was gone, she didn’t really need it, as the pink of her face and the red of her lips made up for it.

    “What do you two think?” she asked, posing in the doorway.

    “Meh,” Plum said jokingly. Dahlia sneered at her.

    “What about you Mazarine?”

    “You look great,” Mazarine said, “and tonight will be fun.”

    Dahlia squealed excitedly and ran farther into the ship. Plum grinned too. Mazarine ignored both of them and turned her head to look out at Earth again.

  32. Avatarjhowe

    For years Joe wanted to be on the red team. He’d ride his blue bike to school wearing the blue shirt as required, eat out of his blue lunch pail and beg the red faction to be considered for their team. Each time they would laugh and stamp his folder with a blue mark and call out for the next red wannabe.

    As an adult, Joe accepted his blue status and even came to relish the differences. The red players still enjoyed their fame and privileges but it bothered him less and less. He liked being blue.

    And then something phenomenal happened. The red team suddenly went out of vogue. Around the country, red players were shunned and ridiculed and they begged the blue team for acceptance. Joe, being a leader now, was in charge of the selection committee. He did not, however, enjoy this part of the job. He routinely allowed red players to convert and soon the blue team swelled as other blue leaders were also soft on conversion duties.

    Before long, the red faction was practically extinct. A new group emerged, wearing yellow. It was necessary, they thought, to keep balance and not allow one team to dominate. The blue players, now drunk with power revolted. Joe worried and was so distraught he approached the yellow team for acceptance. Joe no longer liked being blue. The yellow team, recognizing Joe as a leader, refused him entry. They had all the recruits they could handle and Joe just didn’t fit.

    Joe watched from the sidelines as the yellow team grew rapidly. He saw it so clearly now. It wouldn’t take long and the entire country would be yellow.

    One perk of being a blue leader for so long was Joe was flush with cash. He bought a textile mill and began to manufacture multi-colored checkered shirts. He hired a distribution team and soon half the country wore them. A funny thing happened when the shirts were donned. The wearers became practically stress free and made decisions on their own, without the stigma of color being a factor. The country loved the new shirts and the yellow team didn’t even bother to revolt. Instead, they wore checkered clothing and fit in wonderfully. They all lived happily, contributing daily and enjoyed their success. They hardly noticed the people lurking in the shadows, wearing green.

      1. AvatarKerry Charlton

        Loved the last sentence John. Perfect ending also your reflection of society at work was frightfully accurate. Cross a Democrat with a Republican and you create a Schmoo. Are you old enough to know what a Schmoo is?

    1. AvatarReathaThomasOakley

      We will see several of the grandkids I married my husband to get next week. I think I’ll print your story to read to them, see if they get the message. Might leave out the green, though.


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