Shades of Silver

Okay, so this chapter is going to sound crazy. I had to try to explain it and it sounds like it was written by a mad man/woman. Sorry! I promise it makes sense later . . . Also, sorry it's so long.

I wake up from my dream, sweat pouring down my forehead. I gasp for air as if I had been yanked underwater for a while.

There's a way to contact the Other Side other than in my sleep?

My thoughts in my dreams are different. In the Other Side, it's like I'm a different person entirely. Talking to a Person in the Mirror (I've talked to about five of them, although I think there's more than that), it's like a mixture between there and here. And here, well, I don't even know how my thoughts work. I'm kind of afraid to know, to tell the truth.

Something I've figured out, though, is that here, people think you're insane if you tell them about that. I'm guessing the Other Side isn't exactly famous in the Real World. If it is real.

I really don't know what's real and what's not. The Other Side, I think, is real. But who knows? I'm pretty much trapped inside my head. Who knows if this isn't some kind of safe haven for me to get away from the Other Side? Did I create the Real World--is it just a part of my imagination? I don't even know, can't even begin to know.

I slide out of bed. In the Real World, I live with my aunt and uncle. I think. That's what I've been told, or have told myself, or however it works out. I've been told my parents died when I was just a newborn, from an airplane crash. But who knows if that's real? Who knows if I even have parents?

I'm so confused, I don't know where to start.

My aunt and uncle don't have kids of their own, and they love me a lot. I guess I'm lucky to have them. If they're real. I sure hope so.

I look outside, at the gray world in front of me.

There's a word that the people here use. Colorblind. I've been diagnosed as "colorblind." Something I've picked up--if you can see weird colors sometimes, on people, on . . . things, that are so weird and real you think you made them up . . . don't tell your doctor. I explained to him about how I could see colors, the entire spectrum, in fact, but only on certain things. Like, for an example, my hair's dark reddish brownish. My eyes are dark cobalt and silver. I thankfully didn't mention the Other Side to him, but he still thought I was crazy.

"Your hair is brown. Your eyes are brown. What are you talking about?" he asked.

I shut up really quick. Even back then, I knew not to give stuff away.

In this world, I'm weird. Maybe even insane. The thing is, I don't know if this world is real, so I don't know if I am or not. Or maybe I am just some kind of raving mad lunatic and I created the Other Side and all of the People in the Mirror because of it. I just don't know.

I saunter over to the mirror, still sleepy. I don't look like a lunatic. Do I?

Sighing, I change into jeans and a t-shirt. Does it really matter? Either way, I'm stuck with this.

Smelling a wonderful scent of French toast, I make my way down the stairs, trying not to yawn.

My aunt, who is standing beside the stove currently, making breakfast, smiles at me when I walk in to the kitchen. "Good morning, Zila."

I smile back at her. "Morning."

My uncle, who is in the living room at the moment, looks up from his economics magazine, gives me a glum smile, and looks back down at it.

What's up, Unc, I think.

Setting a plate down at the table for me, my aunt pauses to look at me. "Are you okay?" she asks abruptly, as if my face had just broken out into blue spots.

"Um, yeah . . .?" I pick up a piece and bite into it. Delicious. "What's wrong?"

"You just look . . . tired," she says. "Are you getting enough sleep?"

My uncle snorts. "She would if she didn't stay up until midnight sketching in that book of hers."

My aunt stiffens. She once looked in my sketchpad, at whatever I had been drawing at the time. In fact, I think she's the only person who ever has. She just wasn't the same afterwards.

I shrug. "It's true."

My aunt just laughs. "Make sure you go to sleep earlier if you're going to do that, okay?"

I just wish they were real. Who knows, they may be. It just doesn't seem like it could be this good. I really, really hope it is.

It's weird. I can't explain it that well. But this is true.

 

"Hey, Zee-Zee," a voice asks.

I, for some reason, find it hilarious that some of my "friends," I guess you could say, have given me a nickname. A ridiculous nickname, considering my real name isn't exactly something you would give a nickname to.

It's Amber. Amber is okay, I guess. Everyone is okay, but the fact that they're all gray just makes them look weird. Like they're faded. Only reminds me that I have no idea what's real and what's not.

She has light gray hair and pale gray skin and almost black eyes. Or at least that's as much as I can figure out. Amber, along with all of her other friends, have kind of taken me "under their wing," I guess you could say. When you have no friends, apparently, you're weird. The fact that I have at least one of them in all of my classes makes me feel better about it. I don't stand out. So no one knows that I'm crazy or anything.

It's awesome.

I look up from my paper, where I am doodling a cloud. A certain cloud, I must say. And if I could paint in the colors I can see, I would. Sadly, I can't. But they'd be the best shade of blood red.

I guess you can figure out what it is I'm always sketching. I once had this idea that I dreamt of the Other Side beacuse I drew pictures of it before I fell asleep. However, it wasn't so. Besides, I'm not really sure I'm dreaming of the Other Side. It's more like I'm physically going there, as I can get hurt there and I have my own set of memories there. It's weird and makes no sense, I know. But it's true.

I'm in the school library, currently, as that is where my teacher told the class to go.

"Hey," I say.

Amber sets her books down and opens her notebook. "Are you ready to start on the report?"

She's talking about our World History report. We have to pick an ancient civilization and write a paper on it. We're doing ancient Rome, and I was beggining to hate it.

"Sure," I shrugged, standing up.

"Okay," she starts, opening her notebook, "so, I had this idea, to where we could write about their culture as well as their civilization, as it was important as well. I just didn't really know where to start . . ." she trails off.

Amber probably already knows so much about ancient Rome, or anything, really, she could write that paper without ever cracking open a book. I, however, have no idea what I'm doing in this area. In fact, I don't even know what's true and what's a figment of my imagination.

Awesome.

"Sounds good," I reply. "Do you want me to check out a book or something on it?"

"Uhh . . . hmm. Yeah, I guess so. I wanted to focus mainly on their culture. Think you can find any books on their mythology or anything?" Amber starts writing furiously.

"'Kay." I get up, knowing that I'm not really needed. But I look for a book anyway.

The library is huge, but always makes me feel uneasy. I look at the books, and they all seem to look back at me--hiding secrets, watching me.

But I guess it's just paranoia. Or my lunaticness.

I pull out a huge book on ancient Roman mythology and scan through it. It's heavy, and incredibly large. Surely it'll be enough.

I walk back to the table. "Will this suffice?"

Amber looks at me as if I grew extra arms. "Ya think, Zila?"

I open the book to a random page, where I try to make sense of the words about as big as the book itself. This thing was obviously written for professors. Finally understaing a bit, I say, "Okay, so, this guy Jupiter--"

"King of the gods and goddesses," Amber puts in.

I raise an eyebrow. "I'll . . . just go put this back."

As I walk back to the bookshelf where I got the Encyclopedia of Incredibly Long Words, I see something shiny flicker in the corner of my eye.

I yelp, turning wildly, my heart pounding. I grip the book so hard that, not only my knuckles, but my entire hand turns white.

I've had too many encounters. The Old Man said they were just figments of my imagination. That's what I believe. But what if he's wrong? I don't even know if he's real.

And if you ask me, those things are pretty real. 

But it's nothing. Well, sort of. There's these two people in the corner, working on a report, looking at me weirdly. They look normal, no colors my eyes can detect. They probably are just startled by me going into I'm-going-to-judo-flip-someone mode.

I put the book back and walk back to the table, their eyes following me the entire way.

Funny, I don't recognize them. They must be new.

If they're real. If any of this is real.

Sighing, I sit back down at the table.

"Read this," Amber says, holding three pages of the report out, not looking up as she continues to write the report.

I don't really pay attention to it. Anything Amber writes is probably going to be good.

"It's great," I say, handing it back.

I glance behind me again. The people are still watching me. It's a boy and a girl, who as if they're related. Probably brother and sister. Both are gray, like everyone else. I can't really get a good look at them from here, but I know that they have dark hair and gray eyes. The boy is wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and the girl is wearing a light-colored blouse and a darkish skirt.

I stare them down, expecting them to look away. But they don't. They just keep looking.

And suddenly, I realize--

"Did you hear me?"

I jerk back toward Amber. "What?"

"I asked if you thought that I introduced Julius Caesar well enough. I didn't want to talk about him that much, as everyone knows who he is, but, of course, being the first dictator of Rome, I had to talk about him."

"Yeah. It's great," I say. "You did it just right!"

She starts erasing stuff anyway.

I look back at the corner, but the brother and sister have vanished.

My start to breath heavy and the pounding in my heart would probably score a 20.0 on the Richter scale.

Because, at first, I thought their eyes were gray.

But they aren't. They're silver, an icy, light silver, the color of the Old Man's and the other People in the Mirror.

Silver. As in something my eyes can detect.

Only things that have to do with the Other Side ever have true colors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Sorry, guys, if there are typos. My typing isn't exactly perfect and I need to write this down before my inspiration and creativity run out--so, please, tell me if there is one so I can change it. Thanks!