Red, Blue, and Yellow

Prompt: Write something inspired by three colours.


I walk “home”. The stormy grey streets and the concrete grey skies are flat and dull, colour leeched away by the dreary, mundane life that we all have been “trapped” in. The sentries on the street have no faces, but I feel their eyes. I want to walk faster but I won’t. I will be safe. This is their promise. 

My straight grey door is not unlike any other straight grey door on my street. I open, close, and walk inside. I set down my bag, and walk into the kitchen. 

The pills are waiting on the table. 

My heart drops and my stomach twists as they stare at me. I don’t want them. I don’t want them. They promise safety but I don’t want it. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t. 

I take the bottle in my hand, slowly, and stare at it. I don’t. 

I turn and throw the pill bottle at the wall. It shatters, and tiny capsules fly everywhere. Something lifts in my chest, for a moment, before my stomach twists. 

I turn and flee into my room, watching myself in the mirror carefully. 

Everything is normal. I’m safe. I exhale. I’m safe. 

I smile slowly, and the world shatters. 


I can’t think.

The world is so dark, twisting and curling around me in viscous blobs of blood, blood, and gore. I fall, twisting, as the world curls around me, tightening its grip on my arms and legs and neck. I crash to the ground, and my ears ring as I blink groggily, trying to readjust. 

When my ears clear, I hear the sound of a cello. 

I look up to find myself face to face with a cellist, her long arms twisting around her instrument with grace, the haunting notes twisting through the air like death. I’m frozen in fear as the music stretches into long, high-pitched screams, and the cellist’s arms grow longer and thinner, and her mouth stretches open until I can no longer tell if the screaming sounds from the cello or her mouth. 

The air splits apart, and the world shatters.


I can’t breathe.

The world is choking me, like there’s nothing but empty space where air should be. As if there’s a storm raging just beyond my view, sending everything around me into a turmoil. I can’t find the surface, everything around me is just dark, shuddering with every failed breath I try to take. My feet hit something like ground, and I fight to keep standing. 

When my lungs clear, the air is sickly. 

I open my eyes to see a field of what looks like sea plants, with star-shaped flowers and twisted vines. The air is thick, choking, a little sweet, but mostly bitter. It fills my nose and throat, threatening to suffocate me. I desperately cover my face with my sleeve, but the flowers open wider, releasing a heavy plume of dark gas. I feel weak, then delirious, until the sound of my laughter no longer seems to be coming from my mouth. 

The flowers blur together, and the world shatters. 


I can’t be.

The world is bathed in a soft light, glowing weakly in the space around me. My feet seem to move on their own, slowly, almost gracefully. The air feels warm, but not humid, like something familiar from times long gone. I don’t see anything around me, just the light, but I’m not afraid. 

When my vision clears, the world is beautiful. 

I look around at a field with a golden creek trickling through the grass. Flowers dot the sides, and the air feels cleaner than anything I’ve breathed before. I walk slowly through the meadow, letting the warm breeze blow through my hair and clothes. I let myself smile, even though it feels unfamiliar on my lips. Even though the voice in the back of my head is screaming at me that this isn’t real, that I have to wake up, I have to keep going, I have to keep fighting. 

I lie down in the soft grass, and I finally shatter.

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