The world turned black and white last year. The sky’s brilliant blue melted away into darkness, the violet walls of my bedroom faded into a prison gray, and the people around me looked like the pictures out of old newspapers. Music turned into noise, books turned into gibberish, photo albums turned into broken memories, and I turned into a quiet, despairing form in the corner.
The days turned into starless nights, mish mashing together into one endless, torment filled midnight, devouring me completely. School became a jail. It was only a place where I stood at an assembly line, cranking out whatever they wanted to see, whatever they wanted to hear, because that was what I had to do. That was what everyone had to do.
It continued like that for quite a while. Black and white. Prison gray. Midnights and jails and assembly lines… But it couldn’t stay like that forever. At the end of the assembly line there was a spark, and it was bright yellow, cutting through the darkness like the stars that had been missing for so long. I followed it.
One spark turned into two, and two into three, and three into four, then into hundreds of sparks, cheering me on as I approached the end of the assembly line. The midnight burned red as it lifted, being pulled by the newspaper people as they, too, turned to rainbow, dressed in brilliant costumes and make up. The assembly line shifted beneath my feet, lifting me up and placing me onto a stage, transforming me from the quiet girl in the corner to a shining star at the center of attention.
I spun around on the stage, listening to the audience cheer and the music play, and as I took my bow I realized that the world had once again gained its color.