The colours I never saw

“What do you mean, colours?”
For a moment, I think he hasn’t heard me. I imagine him standing there, his eyes focused on what lies beyond those windows.
“How old were you when you lost your vision?”
“Seven.” I reply.
“What colours do you remember?” I close my eyes. At first, there is only a familiar darkness. But then, the palette starts to brighten.
I see my mom’s wavy hair ..” Yellow” I whisper.
My toy car….”Red”
The beaches … “Blue”
“They’re all there, child” I hear his words, but the catch in his voice is even more audible.
“Why are you crying?”
I feel him bend down and place his arms around me, hugging me tightly, as the sounds outside grow nearer. “Imagine all those wonderful colours together”
“Like a rainbow?” “No. Even more splendid. The whole sky is just painted in all these lovely colours. Can you see it ?”
I keep my eyes closed and slowly all the colours start to appear. They flutter around, coalescing with each other indiscriminately. They envelop me within their vibrancy and I am one with them.
“Yes. Yes I see it.” I feel his cheeks widen as he smiles A moment later, the missile hits our building. I hear its deafening fury and feel the scorching heat but I see it not. In my eyes, I see only the last image my Abba painted for me.
They are the most beautiful images I have ever seen.

Authors note :  The above post, my attempt at short fiction, was first published in Tamarind Rice for the theme 'Colours', a fun free e-magazine where I will be a guest writer cook. Well, it's kind of like the animated movie 'Ratatouille' and like Alfredo Linguini, I'll be allowed to contribute till the creative heads there realise the truth - that a rat could do a better job than me! 

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