Majesty of Color

The door to my prison creaked open. The hinge had not been oiled recently. Several months perhaps. I had asked about it, but no one really seemed to care.

Why should they? I was a freak of nature.

“Eliza, I’ve brought your lunch.” It was Nan. She had been my caretaker, back when I was living in the community. Now she was my prison guard. I could understand. She had been charged with taking care of me, bringing me up to be a contributing member of society.

She had failed. I had the eyes.

As if in recognition of that thought, my blindfold caught on a nail, jerking my head back when I tried to rise from my wooden bed.

“Shit!”

Nan chided me. “Now, you shouldn’t speak like that! It’s not becoming of a young woman.”

Fury swam through me for a moment, then subsided. “Why?” I asked her. “Who cares? No one comes to visit me except you. So who cares if I say bad words?”

I heard her huff, and tensed when she suddenly took my hand. “Just because no one else is there doesn’t mean you still shouldn’t be a good human.”

I snorted. It was always the same thing, as if I could help the fact that I saw things in… different ways. Ever since I could remember, I could always see that. People would hold up items they said were identical, except that they weren’t identical, but different. Not in size, or shape.

Just different. Like me.

So, as was the custom, I was locked up until the difference went away. Once a month, they remove my blindfold, and if things are no longer different, well, then I am to be released.

If nothing’s changed…

Well, I’m still here, aren’t I?

Nan guides my hand to grasp a spoon, then lets me bring it to my mouth myself. I’ve had to get good at that, because sometimes Nan can’t be here for long. As much as I dislike her, she’s still the only one that talks to me, so I can’t help but want her to stay.

I don’t dislike her, really. I just hate that she does what she does.

“You’re doing good eating by yourself.” She comments, and I nod.

“It’s not that hard.”

All is silent, except for my slurping the soup.

Nan yells suddenly as the grounds shakes, and I drop the spoon, grasping for something to hold onto. Being blind when earthquakes happen is no fun. But before the shaking can stop I hear screams, and footsteps traveling down the hallway.

I want to reach for my blindfold, but I can’t. I mean, I could, but mentally…

I just can’t.

So I hold on to the leg of the bed and hope that the shaking stops. It seems to get worse though, rather than stopping and I cringe when Nan yells again, the rusty hinges of the door harmonizing as it’s opened.

Then, a gasp, and a thud, and someone grabs me, but not roughly.

“Hey, hey, are you alright?”

Figuring it to be a guard, I answer. “A little shaken, but okay. What happened? Was it just a really bad earthquake? Is Nan okay?”

There’s a momentary silence. “Why do you care about her? She’s one of your jailers. She doesn’t matter.”

And I get a slight sinking feeling in my stomach. This is no guard. Everyone here respects other people as living beings and wouldn’t dare to insult anyone else like that. Suddenly, hands lift the blindfold away, and I’m hit with the apparent strangeness of everything again.

“You do have the eyes, don’t you?” There’s strangeness about his cloak that draws my vision to it first, but almost hurts my eyes looking at it. I look up to his face, and the strangeness is there too, and in his hair, and he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He’s taller than I am, by a lot, but he looks only a few years older than me.

Then, to himself. “Yeah, you do. Come on.”

I try to fight him, but he just picks me up and balances me on a shoulder. “It’s useless to fight.” He says, and when I keep struggling, I feel a sharp prick in my leg. Immediately, there’s a heaviness behind my eyes, and I find myself slipping away as darkness closes in.