If the world were a colour, it would be grey. Well, it’s not
really grey. But for this girl, it was. She was an odd little girl in an odd
little world. Well, she wasn’t really little, nor was the world she woke up in.
But one thing was true, it was all very odd.
When she woke up,
she wasn’t really lying down. She was standing up straight and felt a bit disorientated,
as if she had fallen in a daze in the middle of the corridor. She can’t
remember where she was or how she got there in the first place. And everywhere
around her was very strange and unfamiliar. The decrepit structure of the
buildings, the damp, grungy decor and the foreign smells thick in the
atmosphere; it was not a pleasant place to be, but the girl was not frightened.
As she explored the
place, she found her reflection in a large, piece of mirror shard, sticking out
like a jagged piece of ruin. She seemed like the only thing in the world with
colour. Her short hair and top were a bright, dark pink, almost a magenta
shade. Her skin was porcelain white, with a blush of colour on her cheeks, like
a doll. Her pants and knee-length boots were black as tar, and so were her
eyes. But her eyes had pink pupils in the middle, like buttons.
Not a moment too
soon after inspecting herself in the shard did she hear a strange sound.
Further down the corridor she spots a large frog-like creature. Or maybe it was
a child. Perhaps it was both. Its skin was swamp-green and it was hopping about
like a frog, but there was something child-like or impish about his face.
Whatever it was, it seemed like the only moving creature besides her. In a
lonely grey world with nothing to do, she follows it through the maze of the
worn-down building. The creature bounced off the walls as the girl nonchalantly
followed. It seemed as if it wanted to be followed because whenever the girl
stopped and took her time to inspect something, the frog-imp-child would wait
for her close by.
Through corridors
and corridors, the girl passed by shadows and old ghosts and people whom she
was sure were no longer people; all residents of this forgotten grey world. The
girl found a staircase and was enticed to go downstairs to see where it led.
But she heard someone coming up the stairs. It was a woman singing. Suddenly
fear overtook the magenta-haired girl and she hid around the corner. From a
safe corner, she saw the woman’s black gown trailing behind her as she sang
softly, but cheerily. She was dressed in all black, like a mourner’s gown, with
a long, black-laced veil covering her face. The atmosphere was eerie and cold
and for the first time, the girl was frightened. She went to look for the
frog-child.
Finally the girl
sees a curtain at the end of a large hallway, with bright light creeping in
through the gaps and moth-bitten holes. Without hesitation, she pushes through
the curtain and her eyes are blinded, for a moment, by a vast spectrum of
colours. She finds herself in the outside world. She looks up to the blue,
azure sky and she can feel the warm sunlight on her porcelain skin, still
feeling cold from the grey world behind her. She finds herself standing on a
patio garden, with greenery of all kinds in pots of different shapes. On the
wooden floor and a number of them handing above her head. Some of them even had
flowers and they were a beauty for her button eyes to behold.
Just then, she feels
arms wrap around her and someone is hugging her from behind. The girl hears a
voice speaking, saying things like ‘how much I’ve missed you’ and ‘it’s good to
see you again’. The girl turns around and she stares into the chocolate eyes of
another girl, not much older than she was. She had brown hair and was dressed
in a white T-shirt and jeans. She looked at the girl as if she were expecting a
response to the warm welcome. The magenta-haired girl looked confused at the
stranger and asked, “And you are...?”
And the girl with
chocolate eyes was stunned. “Don’t you remember me, Magenta? It’s me! You do
remember me, don’t you?” A second later a lifetime of memories flooded the
girl’s mind, shocking and terrifyingly abrupt. The girl with chocolate eyes was
just a child when Magenta came into her life. Woven by threads of dreams and
wishes of friendship, Magenta was brought to life by the little artist and her
world of crayons and bright paint. Whenever she needed a muse or a friend,
Magenta was always there for her. But one day, the artist fell ill for the
longest time and her world of colour was turning pale from malnourishment.
Months passed and
the girl remained in a coma, and unconsciously sought dreams from everywhere
else except her own. But though Magenta was almost forgotten, she never left
her little artist. She remained in limbo, where she awaited her canvas world to
be restored to life. But after a while, Magenta lost her memory and wandered
through limbo aimlessly, constantly forgetting what and who she was and what
and who she was supposed to be. Finally the day came when the artist awoke. And
she sought to find her muse once more. “I’m sorry. I never intended to forget,
especially you.” Magenta replied as she hugged her artist tight, “You never
forgot me. Your heart remembered. You were always there, while I was the one
who lost memory of my master.” And painted on her porcelain face was a smile.
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