To Live in Colour

I aim to write these so that you can enjoy them as stand alone stories, or one after the other. If you'd like to do the latter, this one follows on from Pissing on Fate.

Dying, or as near as damnit, can give you the Second Sight. But since that arsehole barged in through my front door and stabbed me, actually stabbed me.,. I've felt not a flicker of whatever-it-was I had before. I can't Read anymore. I can't see auras. I'm... Mundane.

Better than dead, though.

Isn't it?

I suppose, though it sounds dramatic... I am dead. That's how it feels. Compared to before. The difference between seeing in colour, and seeing in black and white. I am shade, a shadow, moving through the world.

There are two things I want more than anything. To live again in colour, and to dispatch the man who killed me. As I understand it, it wasn't even personal. He was just robbing me. He had no idea what he was robbing me of. That makes it worse, somehow.

I have a vague memory of him. He had his hood up and I didn't get a good look at his face. I didn't know him, didn't know his name. The strongest memory I have of those moments when I lay dying and helpless, is of a bargain made. Made when I was in no fit state to make it.

I've tried to gather my talent back to myself, snatching at threads. Trailed after rumours of people or books or substances that might help me. Trying to study and train and medicate myself to attain it, where before it had just been a natural part of me. As well to study the having of a leg, or a liver.

I stitched my deepest wants together, and now I'm standing outside his door. Ready to knock, to make that bastard look in my eyes and then watch his life seep out over his fingers. And maybe get back what I lost by trading his life for it.

Even without the Sight, I know I'm on a knife-edge of possibility, the place where understanding blooms. The Sight can't be bought with a worthless life. Justice, though. Revenge. That's worth a lot. Do I pay the price, give up my chance to repay what was done to me... and maybe wake at last? Or do I stay dead?

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Word count (excluding notes): 366

Submitted on 22nd March at 23:20

*Quick Author's Note*

First, and most importantly: thank you for reading!

Leave me a link to your own latest story, if I haven't already seen it!

If you enjoyed this story, the best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another.

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes a 82 day streak. I'm also putting them in my Index post.

Thank you

Thank you again! I do my best to reciprocate all reads.