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Kenny

India

tis i, a writer, togetherslapper of words.

Message to Readers

this was originally written for a contest for the prompt "yellow", but i didn't particularly like the entry, so here it is, brand new and not much better than the previous piece if i'm honest, but at least it got me over my writer's block.

title from coldplay's yellow

look how they shine for you

July 14, 2019

FREE WRITING

3
when I was younger, i didn't particularly like yellow. it reminded me too much of unpleasant things: my grandfather's papery skin, my great-aunt's bridal necklace that closed around my neck like a promise (like a noose), my uncle's rotting smile when he spoke of a rich groom.

but after i ran, well. well.

"what's your favourite colour?"

"guess." i enjoyed these little questions she asked, liked the way her eyes brightened as she spoke, like knowing something so mundane as my favourite colour was a matter of great importance.

she didn't reply, but two days later, suddenly: "yellow."

"what?" i looked up from my soup. the steam from her bowl was wreathing her hair, her eyes were dark and delighted.

"your favourite colour, i mean." 

i wasn't really paying attention to what she said. (why would i when i could gaze at her instead?)

"well? is it your favourite?" she sounded impatient for a reply, so i hummed in agreement, still unsure about what i was assenting to. this was apparently the correct answer, for she instantly brightened and said, "i knew it!" 

it was actually turquoise, not yellow, but looking at her, i quickly decided to never love another colour again.

and then, it was everywhere.

in the lemon tea that rested so sweetly on her mouth, in the cracked yellow pages of the books she loved to read, in the deep gold of her bracelet, in the light tan of her skin. 

and when she left me for the ground (much too soon, much too early), i returned to the sea and i'd remember her bracelet and her fingers and her lips, i'd write sonnets in the hot ochre sands, and sing every love song i'd ever heard, and then i'd sit on the beach and watch the golden sunset, and i'd think of her, and me, and us.

and once i leave for the ground, i hope the after will be yellow.








 
don't ask me how the narrator knew that it was the same plane, i'm a writer, and therefore, am not constrained by the rules of logic. (also, i spent like half an hour searching for an airline whose colours include yellow, and i found one: spirit.) 

title from coldplay's yellow, which i listened to on repeat while writing this.
 

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  • July 14, 2019 - 11:28am (Now Viewing)

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5 Comments
  • fatpanda

    hey, i don't have any pieces in mind for the reviews, you could just choose between any of my recent pieces. do you have anh particular pieces you want reviews on?


    13 days ago
  • JR@writer_INDIA

    Nice


    2 months ago
  • Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

    wow


    2 months ago
  • Araw

    This is such a cute piece.


    2 months ago
  • Kenny

    pls ignore the footnotes


    2 months ago