drabble drabble drabble
I do not own.
enjoy.
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P A L E T T E
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that prismatic world –
Full of colourful boys and girls, their faces a never-ending portrait of happiness, their contagious laughter bringing music to their lives.
They lived in a perfect little bubble, closed in, unaware of all the shadows lurking outside, their lives a living heaven.
To them, it was forever daylight, the sun always blazing, the birds always whistling, the children always laughing. Even the night was full of light, the moon and the stars bright, smiling, happy.
Happy, happy, happy.
Everything was so happy.
They knew nothing of the dull colours of black, white and grey – these merely didn't exist in their colourful world. They were oblivious, blinded by the light.
They feared the darkness, the shadows, the nightmarish figures. They feared being in the unknown, not being able to see, not being able to feel. And so they dared not look outside their little prismatic world, afraid of what they might find.
And so all they could see was the yellow shining sun, the red prospering plants, the blue stunning sea.
Anger and pain were emotions they just didn't feel.
Crying and shouting were sounds they just didn't hear.
Burning and rotting were smells they just didn't smell.
For them, it was all happy and exciting and laughing and smiling and baking and flowers.
For them, it was all perfect.
that monochrome world –
Full of shadows and darkness and mysteries hanging around every corner. Full of ghosts from the past that haunted them with each second.
Blacks and whites and greys were the only things they saw, the colours faded away, blending in a dull cloud.
All they could see was the dark black sky, the white buildings, the monotonous moon.
Happiness didn't exist here; pain and anger and hurt and despair were the reality. Here, there was no laughing and smiling and hugging. Here, that just didn't exist.
Here, there was no colour.
Every day was the same routine, the same faces, the same colours. And they couldn't complain, couldn't do anything about it, because they didn't know anything different.
They went about their daily lives, doing the same old assignments, not daring to object because they knew that it would do no good.
And most of them didn't even want to object. They'd lived in the monochrome world for so long, absorbed in the blacks and whites, learned to live with them. Without colour. Without light.
And now, they feared it. They thrived in the darkness, and once they'd looked into it, they couldn't look away.
They could all see the prismatic lives that others lead. Most of them had felt it at some point, too. But no longer did they remember, for no longer did they feel.
For a world without colour is a world without anything.
a whisper of a shadow –
And the three prismatic children from the happy prismatic world started to ask questions.
They started to wonder. Wonder about what else was out there, wonder what else there was to see, wonder what world lived outside of their bubble.
"I've always wondered why we're here on this island. If there are any other worlds out there, why did we end up on this one? And suppose there are other worlds... then ours is just a little piece of something much greater."
They wanted to find out more. Wanted to explore. Wanted to see. For once, it seemed that colour wasn't enough to fill a life.
that shadowy boy –
The one who always had a dark air hanging around him, the one who was never quite as colourful as the others, the one who's burning curiosity filled him with one desire…
The one who brought about that whisper of shadow. The one who started with the questions, started wondering.
It was him that made the others see. See that there was more to life than just colour.
He made them dare to step out of the bubble, and look into the monochrome world that everyone else was so afraid of.
He only realised too late why they were so afraid of it.
that colourful boy –
The brightest one, the one who was always smiling and laughing and playing, the one who didn't understand the darkness.
The one who couldn't stop the shadowy dreams that haunted his sleep, the one who was given the destiny he didn't want, the one who didn't fit into the monochrome world he was thrown in to.
He was the one that could never see. He was the one that was naïve. He was the one that ignored the questions, didn't wonder.
His perfect little life revolved around his two best friends. They were the main objects of his sight, but even though he looked at one so much, he was still unable to identify the darkness that lurked inside.
He mainly had eyes for that bright little girl, the mysterious one with no home. She was enough to fill his life.
But he still followed his shadowy friend; competed with him, fought with him, listened to him, believed him, wondered with him, went with him.
Saved him.
that vibrant girl –
The one who had the purest light, the one who followed her colourful boy, the one who could see the clearest.
The mysterious one, the one who had no home, no memories, no feelings. All that changed when she arrived in that prismatic world.
She was the one who was always smiling, who had a natural ability to make people feel better. But, like the shadowy boy, she asked questions. She dreamed. She believed. She embellished.
She was the first one to notice. She was so pure, her light so bright, that she could see straight through it.
Her heart could sense the shadows pulling at his heart, the darkness that threatened to spill out of him, but she didn't realize what it was.
She could have saved him.
But then she had to be saved herself.
blending of palette's –
The colours entered the monochrome world, their hues mixing, changing the reality as it was, stirring things up.
He was following his shadows.
He was following his destiny.
She was following her heart.
None of them had any idea of what was happening, what lives were changing.
They were just three prismatic children, in a not-so-colourful world.
But what happens when three prismatic children see shades they aren't meant to see, feel things they aren't meant to see?
Would they be able to hold onto their colour, or would it fade into nothingness, just like the world around them had?
that white witch –
Oh, how she longed for her freedom, longed to live in that world she had so carefully created.
But oh, how it hurt her that she was unable to do so. How it hurt that she was living a life she didn't want, and there was nothing she could do about it.
She was oh so colourless, a picture of white, a monochrome girl living in a monochrome world. She wished to break free.
And so she painted. She drew. She sketched. She coloured. This was her getaway, her means of escape. It may not have been literal, but for her it was amazing.
She loved watching the vibrant colours escape her crayons, watching them merge to create a beautiful, distorted rainbow.
She drew day in day out, sticking her pictures all over her white, white walls, watching her room come to life.
And then she met the monochrome boy.
that disillusioned boy –
So happy was he, to be living in his colourful world, the sky always orange, the forest always green.
Or so he thought. He lived in bliss with his "friends", thinking this was all there was to life, thinking how simple it all was.
Oh, how wrong he was.
He had it worst. He lived his colourful life, saw all the bright hues, felt them.
And then had them all taken away.
His life became dull, his vision black and white.
He became angry. He was hurt. He was in pain. He was sad. And he put all these emotions into hate, punishing everything around him for his hardship.
He longed to meet the bright boy. Longed to feel him, see him, be him, hurt him.
Instead, he met the only other person who could understand him. Monochrome girl.
Suddenly, life wasn't so simple.
and let the ink spill –
And these two very different worlds, with very different people, blended together, mixed and changed and merged until no-one knew what was real anymore.
Riku, Sora, Kairi, Namine, Roxas.
All of their lives came together in a mixture of colours, shooting off in different directions like spilt ink.
the heart turns first –
He had to do it, had to give it up, had to lose who he was in order to let her live.
Sora. The colourful one. He became black and white, dark, heartless, and all because of the simple thing called love.
And everyday he was still fighting, fighting, fighting, repeating the same old thing day in day out, getting lost in that monochrome world. And it wasn't him. It wasn't who he was.
But it was who he had to become.
and once it's turned, it's hard to go back –
Riku was still lost in the shadows, his heart still in the dark, retaining every ounce of the power he needed to fulfill his task.
He had been pulled in, he had let himself be taken. And now, he wasn't sure how to go back.
He'd had a taste for the darkness, and now, he was hooked.
He'd finally found what made him whole.
even the purest can change –
For without her colourful boy, she was nothing. She needed him, like fire needs air. She needed him. He held a part of her.
But she no longer had him. He was gone, she didn't know where, and she didn't know when he was coming back.
And so slowly, the memories began to fade…
And with that, so did the colour.
For before she met him, her life was monochrome, dull, empty. But then he came and brightened it up, acting as her own personal sun, forever smiling, forever laughing, forever just being.
And now that he was gone, she felt as if the light had been switched off.
And she was lost. Lost in the darkness, with no way out.
paint me a picture, beautiful –
But everyone's in charge of their own lives, everyone's destinies are yet to be written.
The picture was unfinished, and they all had the colours before them in order to complete it.
It was all a matter of choice.
Choices, choices, choices. That's what life is about. Choices. Even the hardest ones have to be made.
He chose the darkness. He needed it. He was happy with it. And although he went back to the prismatic world, his heart was stained with an eternal ink.
The other chose light. He nearly gave in, though. His hand hovered over the blacks and the grays, but his heart told him no. She told him no. She brought him back.
She went with him. But that was never really her choice to make. It was never a question for her. It was always going to be him, it was always going to be colour. For her heart was pure, and the colour sang to her. She couldn't deny her heart.
Even the two monochrome children who were born and created in their monochrome world chose the colour. They went against what destinies had been designed for them, chose their own paths in life. Chose the colour.
The white witch was no longer that. She was no longer a Nobody; she was somebody, somebody with a name. Namine.
Namine no longer had to pretend, no longer had to create colour with pens and crayons. For her world was prismatic, just like she'd always dreamed it to be.
And he, the silent brooder, Roxas; he was finally back home. Finally back to a prismatic world with prismatic friends, where he felt as if he truly belonged.
picture perfect –
You don't need to be an artist to get the picture perfect; you don't need to be skilled with eye or hand or anything.
All you need to do, is follow your heart.
It's all a matter of choice.
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end.
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yes yes, 'tis different from the usual.
but change is good, ne?
as usual, reviews would be highly appreciated!
i love you guys :)