Red

by NorwegianLicorice

first person. You can decide who it is who is talking yourself. dark!arthur Red that was the only way I could describe him. Of course red is simply just a colour, so trying to describe a person as red is stupid. Still, it was the first thing I thought of when I saw him, red. And not some lame blood orange red or tomato red, no, like dark red. I would describe him as blood red.

Red

Red that was the only way I could describe him. Of course red is simply just a colour, so trying to describe a person as red is stupid. Still, it was the first thing I thought of when I saw him, red. And not some lame blood orange red or tomato red, no, like dark red. I would describe him as blood red.

It was in London. I was an aspiring writer, and on good way to publishing my first book. On that day I was walking around in the streets, actively avoiding my editor. People hurried past me, some were walking their dog, and some were jogging, trying to get fit before the bikini season began. I was behind on my work and was taking a stroll around the streets when I ran into him. Or more specifically, he ran into me, quite literally. When I saw him red flooded my vision, and it was not like he had red hair, on the contrary his hair was golden and he was on the ground. In that second I instantly wanted him in my book, I wanted to write down how the sun shined through his golden hair, how his eyes looked like they were on fire despite the fact that they were as blue as the ocean on a sunny day. I quickly apologised and helped him up; as soon as he was standing I got a closer look at him. He had a strong jaw and broad shoulders, he held himself like royalty and in a second I could see him in full armour with a crown on his head and a red cape. His name was Arthur.

As an apology I took him to the bar and bought him a drink, we hit it off instantly. We talked about everything we could think of, I told him about my book, purposely leaving out the part about him, and he told me about his family, he never mentioned his job. Arthur seemed almost flawless; he was handsome, rich and charming. It was not strange I fell head over heels in love in such a short time, I was only human. But still it was also the small things, like how he threw his head back when he laughed or how he seemed utterly helpless with feelings or a thousand other things that are very embarrassing when you think about the fact that we just met.

I still saw him as red and it never faltered, it kept being bloody and strong. Sometimes I swore his eyes were red, but as soon as I tried to get a closer look they were yet again blue. Being with him was like seeing everything through a filter, the world around me was red.

A few months later we met again. It was in New York. This time at a coffee shop, I was up to date with my work and was doodling ideas for my book. That day the people were all dressed in warm clothing and drinking pumpkin spice latte, the trees had shed almost all of their leaves and the air was crisp and cold. He was still red. I wondered if I had to check my vision, I wrote it down.

He invited me to walk around the city with him and I agreed. The buildings were tall; they towered over us like giants, just waiting for the perfect chance to ravish us. I wanted to write it down but let my notebook stay in my backpack. As we walked down the street we passed a homeless man. "Human," he mumbled as Arthur gave him some money, I was confused. Of course Arthur was a human, why comment upon it. I left that train of thoughts; the man was probably crazy anyway.

After a while Arthur led me into a dark alley. It was dirty there, with beer cans lying around and dirt covering the ground. I was excepting to see an alcoholic sleeping in the corner, but we were completely alone. Arthur turned to me "You know what, I am starving, would you like some dinner?" He commented. I felt very confused. A strange feeling in my gut told me to run, to hide away from Arthur, for something was deeply wrong. But somehow Arthur was blocking the only way out and for a strange reason I chose that moment to remember the homeless man, the answer to why he said human seemed so close, yet so far. Was there not something about food written on his poster?

In my last moments I felt something plunge into my stomach. The pain was unbearable and I am sure I screamed. The red that always surrounded Arthur seemed to intensify and my heart beat was too loud and everywhere. Before I blacked out I saw a butterfly sitting on the wall beside me, how strange, it surely is not the season for butterflies, I thought. The butterfly was red.