A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this collection so far. Its significance is important to me, although this is one of my least popular pieces.
Seventh Ray-Violet
Thursday dawned maliciously, haunting his line of sight as he donned the uniform slowly. There was something about this day that singed his veins and tormented his senses. Everything that could ever go wrong always seemed to happen on a Thursday. Its dark purple essence saturated all the workings of the universe, causing him to feel melancholy at precisely the same point every week. There was no explanation for it. Perhaps it was simply the longing for the weekend that made it so distasteful. Maybe it was the fact that he recalled the first time he severely butchered an alchemy experiment was on a Thursday afternoon. Or it could have something to do with how she could never stay over on a Wednesday evening, thus leaving him waking cold and alone to face the violet clutches of this day. It was a dreary colour, one of dull repetition and trepidation. It lacked the enchantment and amazement of violet, leaving one with a sense of the forgotten. A mourning colour. He sighed, straightening his military jacket. There was no use putting it off anymore. It was time to face the day.
A/N: My synaesthetic tendancies have always made me see Thursday as a dark purple. I always hated Thursdays as a child, yet colours such as lilac and indigo facinate me. Seriously, I can't take my lilac pen to class, I just stare at it because it's... well, lilac! This is why it's hard to explain Synaesthesia. At times it's the most wonderous thing in the world. Yet at times, it is the most annoying condition to have. And don't get me started on how the rest of my senses muck up. Okay, sorry, enough.
Two more chapters to go.
Reviews are much appreciated.
