I am a witness to mercy, a story of grace, A soul on a journey, far from my place. Through valleys and mountains, both joy and despair, Each new dawn reminds me, God’s love is still there.

I’ve tasted success, but I hunger for more, Dreaming of futures where I can soar. Yet life moves slowly, one day at a time, Trusting the process, each mountain to climb.

God is my refuge, faithful and true, In a blink of an eye, He makes all things new. With the snap of His fingers, He opens the way, Turning my darkness to light in a day.

Stepping out from comfort, I found my stride, With trembling faith, I left fear aside. I tried and I stumbled, but still I believed, And the bold steps of courage brought dreams I achieved.

Life isn’t fair, but faith leads the way, It calls us to follow, though doubts may stay. God must be first, the center, the guide, In His hands we prosper, with Him by our side.

The Word speaks truth: let Christ be your King, And all that you seek, His blessings will bring. Love those around you, be gentle, be kind, For love is the treasure that riches can’t find.

So love your neighbor, extend your hand, Watch how God works, His plans so grand. Trust in His grace, take bold steps anew And see how His mercy makes miracles true.

The 20 year old man looked up at the sky and saw birds flying around. Nothing was out of place until he a cardinal that was red. He did not know it was red, though. He was amazed and shocked by this discovery. He decided to devote his life to finding another splash of color. Little did he know, that was a glitch that would by fixed in no time, and that he had devoted his life to a hopeless cause.

For as long as I could remember, everything was black and white. Surrounded by people who could see color, I always felt out of place. With the way I saw the world, it felt as though people viewed me the same way—black and white. No part of me stood out and nothing in the world caught my eye. I used to be obsessed with wanting to see color, but eventually I gave up. Now, I no longer cared.

Why care about something that would never be possible?

So, I embraced the gray I lived in. The in between of standing out and blending in. It eventually became calming to me. The world being so dull, but it was my world that I saw and enjoyed—at least that was what I thought on my morning stroll, but then, something caught my eye.

That’s strange, what could possible catch my eye?

Stopping in my tracks, I turn my head over my shoulder. Then to my left. Then the right. Just as I swiveled my head back ahead, it happened again. In the corner of my eye I saw something. It was not black nor white. On one of the many brick walls that lined my path, a color.

I have walked through here numerous times. How have I not noticed this before?

It took my breath away. What color is this?

I did not know. All I know is that it is beautiful. It was vibrant. There it was in all its glory. A color. On the wall, it was an artwork of a few butterflies. It was something I walked past countless times but it never stood out until now. I still did not know the name of its color. Continuing to admire its beauty, I engrain its image into my mind. I will make sure to stop by here everyday. Making a mental note, I slowly begin to continue my stroll while keeping my eyes on the artwork before it disappeared out of view.

How tragic, I still don’t know the name of its color.

Gwydolyn steps outside into the cool winter air with her cup of coffee and journal in tow. It was a long and sleepless night, thanks to the constant lightening strikes that cast her dark, cavernous bedroom into daylight for the majority of the night, and the following bellows from the sky, shook the earth so violently that some of her photos fell from the wall and shattered. It’s not common to have storms like these so deep into winter, but on occasion they sneak in to remind our little town of just how unpredictable nature can be when she wants to be. What little sleep Gwydolyn did get in the early morning hours, was abruptly disrupted by the droning tornado warnings that bounced from building to building outside her small loft window. At that point, there was no use in trying anymore. Sleep’s sweet embrace would have to wait another day. The short descent down her spiral staircase, through the kitchen and out the back door is almost total muscle memory to Gwydolyn. She could do it completely blind and not miss a beat. Even brewing and pouring her coffee. As she steps into the small patch of grass that’s left in her yard, wiggling her toes into the earth as she does every morning to ground herself, she leans her head back and yawns out her exhaustion. Shielding her eyes from the blinding morning sun, Gwydolyn glances in the direction of the nearest tornado siren, somehow hoping that would give her any indication as to why they’re blaring this early in the morning when it’s definitely not a scheduled drill. Before her eyes complete the path to the siren, they freeze. Glass shatters as Gwydolyn drops her coffee mug and journal on the ground, glass and months worth of book notes, journal entries, rough sketches and coffee all blend together in the dirt beside her feet. “Shit!” She blurts as she grabs for the journal, quickly shaking it off while also trying not to slice open her hand on any rouge pieces of coffee mug trapped behind the pages. Once the journal is as dry as it can get by being wildly flung around in the air, Gwydolyn glances around to see if anyone else had ventured out in similar curiosity to hers, only to witness her make a fool of herself. The coast is clear, so she carefully steps back a few paces to avoid the glass and returns her gaze to the sky. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops as she stares into the usually soft grey sky dotted with white and grey clouds. Only the sky isn’t a soft grey anymore. It’s changed. Something has changed in the sky. Gwydolyn stumbles back another step, into the safety of her little bungalow home. “What the hell is going on?” She mumbles to herself. “You’re asking me!” Grunts Gwydolyn’s 87-year-old grandmother from the corner of the living room. Gwydolyn startles and drops the journal again, pages now so soft from the coffee that they’re falling apart and tearing from the binding all at once. “Jesus Christ, Grams, you scared the shit out of me!” She snaps as she gathers up the journal pages and tosses the sticky mess on the kitchen table. “What are you doing up so early?” “Same as you, child. The sirens woke me before they did you, and I came to see what the fuss was about. And now I see.” Grams nods to the window she’s clearly been glaring out of for god knows how long. So there was at least one audience member to Gwydolyn’s debacle with the mug. She turns to look back to the sky, shock hitting her just as hard as it did the first 2 times. “What…what is it?” Gwydolyn mumbles, mostly to herself but of course Grams has an answer. “The government, that’s what Gwyn! Those idiots and their experiments, they’ve broken the sky this time and who knows what the consequences will be!” Gwydolyn chooses not to respond and open the flood gates of all that pent us rage boiling in her grandmother. Rightful rage, but not something she really has the capacity to process at the moment. The sirens finally stop their blaring, and the silence is defeating. After a few beats of that uncomfortable silence, Gwydolyn unnecessarily confesses “It startled me so much to see, I dropped my coffee mug on the way out. I’m not sure how I didn’t see you sitting here from the kitchen. Didn’t you think to say good morning? Or maybe warn me of the…the…” “The what, child? What exactly would you expect me to say in warning? ‘Look out, girl, the sky might reach down and rip your things right from your arms, you know due to its new…its new…shading…hue… ah! See? I can’t even be sarcastic with you this thing has me so jumbled! I don’t know how to describe it, and I don’t know why you’re blaming the sky for your clumsiness” Gwydolyn flinches at the jab. Grams isn’t one for niceties, but lately she’s been much farther from pleasant than even she can withstand. Trying to ignore the hurt and move on from the topic of her clumsiness, she walks back to the door and stares into the sky again. Seeing it again each time is like gaining sight for the very first time. It’s like she’s never been able to see before, not really. It’s startling, in the way that taking a sip of what you think is water, but is actually apple juice is startling. It’s like discovering a new word for an experience you’ve never been able to describe. Her brain is reaching for such a word now, anything to describe what she’s seeing before her. “Have you checked the news yet? What are people saying about it?” She asks as she walks to the tv and turns it to the local news channel. “I haven’t left this spot since I noticed it child. What time is it anyways?” “Almost 8 am, why?” Grams eyes widen for a moment before saying “8am? How in the hell have I been sitting here for 2 hours straight? There’s no way it’s 8 am.” “Well I’m pretty sure my watch isn’t wrong but I’ll check the kitchen clock” Gwydolyn responds. Sure enough, the clock strikes 8:00 right as she glances it. “Yep! 8 on the dot. 2 hours, that’s a long time for you to be unoccupied Grams. You feeling okay?” Grams shifts her gaze slowly back to the sky outside the window. She opens her mouth to respond, but never speaks. She just stares into the deep new shade of light beaming from our ancient sky. Her eyes glaze over, almost like she’s in a trance. Gwydolyn asks, “Grams? You okay over there?” As she digs for another coffee mug. Still no response. Gwydolyn quickly walks the short distance from the kitchen to the living room rocking chair where Grams is seated, and gently touches her shoulder. “Grams? Hey. Grams!” Grams startles, turns to Gwydolyn, and shouts. “Good gracious child you scared the living daylights out of me! What are you doing?!” “Grams you were super zoned out. You looked into the sky and it’s like you went into some kind of trance. Are you okay?” A beat of silence passes before grams replies. “I…I’m not sure. I think maybe that happened before. When I first noticed the sky…I remember…I remember sitting in my chair and noticing the…the…” she trails off, staring back into the sky. Another long stretch of silence ensues as they both stare through the window. “It’s like heaven, isn’t it child?” She mumbles as her eyes glaze over again. “Heaven has come to us. It is like the coolest rushing mountain streams to quench your thirst. It’s like crying from the overwhelm of joy” her voice is just a whisper now. “It is the feeling of new life, and the mourning of death all in one breath. It is a miracle, child. Heaven has come to us in the sky.” Gwydolyn just stares at her. She’s noticed grams getting a little more cooky in her stories and conspiracies lately, but maybe it’s more serious than she’s realized. And grams has never been one for poetry. New life and mourning death? What the hell? Returning her gaze to the sky, something catches Gwydolyn’s eye. A bird, fluttering by the window and landing on a nearby tree. Only this bird isn’t the regular shade of grey or black. It has the sky all over it. It’s almost glowing, against the dull grey tree bark. It’s full of light and a feeling washes over her. Not the initial shock that’s hit her every time she’s glanced at the sky this morning, but something new. The feeling you get, when a child is born. The swelling of your heart. That feeling you get, when a loved one leaves this earth. The feeling of release, when tears shed from either experience. Just as she’s realizing her experience is exactly what Grams just described, tears begin rolling down her cheeks. The bird flies away, and Gwydolyn watches its every move until it disappears over the horizon of their property. Her gaze rests on the newly glowing sky, still searching for a word to give meaning to the scene before her. “My eyes don’t feel big enough, to take all this in.”Gwydolyn whispers. It feels as though new places in her mind are lighting up. Like her brain is an ancient library with endless dark rooms full of information, and one of the rooms just had its light turned on. “My eyes can’t get enough” grams replies moments later, still staring out the window, her face cast in a light similar to the new shade in the sky. “Did you see the bird?” Grams doesn’t answer, lost again to the beauty hovering above them. “It’s feathers, they were the same. The same as the sky. Filled with a new light, glowing against the tree. It was so beautiful Grams. What is going on? Whatever it is, it can’t be bad right? Not when it’s this breathtaking…” A few beats of silence pass before Grams replies. “Breathtaking can be quiet dangerous, child.” And she pulls herself away from the window. “Close the blinds, girl! And the back door! I don’t want to see it for another moment. To hell with the government and their ridiculous tactics. They aren’t going to get this one!” She points to herself with her thumb. “Grams you just called it Heaven…you said Heaven has come to us.” Gwydolyn raises an eyebrow at her grandmother, the senile behavior seeming to intensify by the moment. “The hell I did! Close them Gwydolyn, now! And don’t let me catch you staring into space anymore either. Get your things, you’re going to be late for work and so am I!” “Work?? Grams look outside, do you really think the warehouse is even opening today? I’m sure everyone else is as confused as us, there’s no need to rush back into normalcy before we’ve gotten even a single answer about what’s going on!” She peels her gaze from Grams to glimpse the wonder outside her window again. “Stop this nonsense! Get your things, close the blinds, and let’s leave! Now!” Accepting that this enraged, senile woman was not going to lose this off the wall argument, Gwydolyn did as she was told and met Grams in the truck out front. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she spends the entire car ride leaning against the window with her hood on, pretending to sleep, all the while fully soaking up this new and beautiful light radiating from the sky. How could her grandmother be so pessimistic about something so enchanting.

In the small town of Grayscale, where colors seemed to fade into shades of gray, lived a boy named Eli. From the moment he opened his eyes, he saw the world in stark contrasts—black and white. The sky was a canvas of muted tones, the grass a dull hue, and even the laughter of children felt muted, echoing in shades of gray. Eli often wondered what it would be like to see the vibrant colors others spoke of, but for him, the world was a study in simplicity.

Eli found beauty in his monochrome existence. He loved the way shadows danced on the pavement and how the light created intricate patterns on the walls of his home. He spent hours sketching the world around him, capturing the elegance of shapes and forms. His drawings, though devoid of color, were filled with emotion and depth, telling stories that words could not.

One day, while wandering through the town square, Eli stumbled upon an old, dusty shop tucked between two larger buildings. The sign above the door read “Curiosities.” Intrigued, he stepped inside. The shop was filled with trinkets and oddities, but what caught his eye was a small, ornate box resting on a shelf. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, adorned with intricate designs that seemed to shimmer even in the dim light.

As Eli reached for the box, the shopkeeper, an elderly woman with kind eyes, approached him. “Ah, I see you’ve found the Box of Colors,” she said with a smile. “It holds the power to reveal the world as it truly is.”

Curiosity sparked within him. “What do you mean?” Eli asked, his heart racing.

The woman explained that the box contained a magical essence that could allow him to see the world in its full spectrum of colors, but it came with a choice. “Once you see the colors, you may never return to your former vision,” she warned. “It is a gift, but also a burden.”

Eli pondered her words. He had always longed to experience the world as others did, but he also cherished the beauty he found in black and white. After a moment of contemplation, he made his decision. “I want to see,” he said, his voice steady.

The shopkeeper opened the box, revealing a small, glowing crystal. As Eli held it in his palm, a warmth spread through him. He closed his eyes, and in an instant, the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors. The sky transformed into a brilliant blue, the grass a vibrant green, and the flowers bloomed in hues he had only dreamed of.

Eli gasped, overwhelmed by the beauty surrounding him. He ran outside, laughter bubbling from his lips as he danced through the streets, marveling at the colors that painted his world. He felt alive, invigorated by the vibrancy that enveloped him.

But as the days passed, Eli began to notice something unsettling. The colors, while beautiful, also revealed harsh realities. The once-gentle shadows now seemed ominous, and the laughter of children was tinged with the complexities of their emotions. The world was no longer just a simple canvas; it was a tapestry woven with joy and sorrow, love and loss.

Eli found himself longing for the simplicity of his former vision. One evening, he returned to the shop, seeking the wise woman once more. “I want to go back,” he said, his heart heavy. “I want to see in black and white again.”

The shopkeeper nodded, understanding the weight of his choice. “It is rare for someone to seek simplicity after experiencing the complexity of color,” she said. “But it is your journey.”

With a gentle touch, she took the glowing crystal from Eli and returned it to the box. As she whispered an incantation, the colors around him began to fade, and the

Colors are strange for me. I just don’t see the world through their lense. No matter how much i wish i did, so that i could enjoy paintings and nuance in art the way everyone else does, i don’t. For me the world is entirely made up of tones of black, white, and grey. I don’t think there’s been a time when i’ve appreciated that. I mean, i guess if i were more optimistic i could find a bright side. I suppose being able to see depth in a world seemingly so monotone should seem poetic, but i’ve always wished to see colors the way everyone else does.

I’ve heard colors described before, but what people don’t notice is that those descriptions of color only help when you already know what the color is. So i live completely unaware of the wonderful world of colors thay billions of other people get to enjoy.

Until today, when i saw a tone so subtle, it might’ve just been gray. I was walking down the street, and there were chalk drawings. The drawung the color was in was of the beach, and it represented the waves, and i can’t imagine a more perfect color for ocean waves. I can’t imagine colors at all, but this one just felt right.

The color was cold, but warm too somehow. It felt inviting, and all i wanted to do was stare at it. I don’t know what it’s called, i can’t tell the color names apart, but it was beautiful. It didn’t remind me of emotions, like how most people describe colors. It didn’t remind me of a winter day, or the sunshine, or of staying home all day while it rained.

I’m not sure exactly how to decribe it, but it felt perfect. It felt as if everything should be that same beautiful hugh, but then i suppose it would get watered down like every other color i can see.

I want to see it more though, but i haven’t noticed it since then. I haven’t noticed the muted tone in the sky, or the grass, or buildings, although i wish i did. I don’t know if i could ever get over seeing a color that gorgeous, and i hope there’s more.

Black and white. Grayscale. Monochrome. Colorless. Those are the words I've heard my vision described as. But as I peer out over my balcony, all of that has changed. As if I were a camera that had just learned to focus, I see green. The grass, beautiful birds, the flowers that have bloomed. Everything else remains dull, bleak, empty. But this green, it feels as if it's meant for me. I find myself in a trance as the air, another element I cannot see, brushes past the trees. Gazing down, I see my reflection in a puddle. My eyes, something that could never truly see, are green, a bright green staring back at me. This one single color in all of it's hues makes me feel alive, encouraged, I feel free. My world may be a heap of monochrome. Everything in sight blends all the same. But this green has given me a hope for change.

“Hm?” He hummed confused at the bright red color before him. His best friend was happy at the revelation that his friend could finally see another color surely but slowly. “What’s it like?”he asked the silent boy who wore a bewildered expression “bright and shiny” he spoke. Felix chuckled “my boy,that’s a good expression. To me anyway. But you’ll see more…of that I’m sure”. He said with a soft smile. “I’m sure you’ll see more soon…soon” he hummed as he adjusted his lab coat

I was born with black and white sight. Everything dull and boring as I go through life. I lived in a black and white movie. Color was a unknown word to my dark heart. That was until I met her. Her presence brought color to my world. Her chocolate skin. Her honey eyes. Her coffee locks. She was like a sip of expresso in the morning. She brought color into my world. A cozy and comforting change to the atmosphere. Her sweet words like honey. Everything was black and white before she came. Now my world is as sweet as honey. Her body like a beautiful poem. Her eyes like stars. She was my color. I was born with black and white sight. Until her sweetness changed it to honey tones.

⚠️⚠️(THIS WRITING PIECE INCLUDES RELIGION, AND I DONT MEAN TO PUSH MY RELIGION ONTO ANYBODY ELSE, OR ANYTHING OF THAT SORT, ITS JUST MY OWN EXPERIENCE!)⚠️⚠️

I hope you enjoy :))

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Disappointment is my one victory. I’ll continue to plummet closer and closer to purgatory.

Horns sprout from my head. From the thoughts that want me dead.

The one thing I succeed in, is the downfall of others. It’s as if my mere presence smothers.

The voice of angels fall on my deaf ears. Their bright light insist on my tears.

The light is blinding, too much for the human soul. The timer quickening as the radiance of angels takes its toll.

I spread like the plague, full of disgrace. I want to disappear not leaving a trace.

“I mean well!” I say to tired ears. The human is scorned by its peers.

I sprall off alone, away from others. Thoughts of where the girl had gone people wonders.

I sink deeper into the wells. Escape I want, but the darkness prevails.

Deeper and darker my world becomes. To what I wonder, have I succumbed?

A human with a painted face. Horns glued on in disgrace.

“My sin is me!” the human creeds. Falling as tears wept on her knees.

A dark voice rumbles the well. A menacing presence is all that dwells.

“I am the devil, the tempest of sin, for I indulge in this pin.”

I shake and tremble a classic tale. Breathing with a heavy exhale.

“Why? Why have you made me to this state? Why lead me to a bait?”

“A fish I am, temped by your lure. For what I wonder is the cure?”

“The test of will, and faith is done, for you have nowhere to run.”

“You’ve pushed those who love you away, now you remain as my stupid prey.”

I look up to the devil, his tall strength unable to level.

“No one can save you now, everyone is gone, from your own prow.”

I sigh in defeat, walking to the empty seat.

This is where I stay, forever here, unable to stray.

A light appears from my dark dwell. A gleam, or a sparkle, I cannot tell.

A silhouette in the shape of a hand, sitting before me on the dark land.

“I am god, a helping grace. For you my angel, have fallen into a dark place.”

I nod as tears fall down my cheeks, his help is what I truly seek.

The devil intrudes, and steps in the way, blocking me from my God’s bright ray.

“I am the devil, a tale old as time, for this angel, is now all mine.

A sinner is whose she’s become, no longer able to overcome.”

God interrupts with a smiles on his face. “Human, is a but binding lace.

Once torn from the threads of earth, they become their true final birth.

Horns or a halo will appear, but all I hold truly dear.

This one has steered the wrong way, no longer asking to be turned away.”

The devil has lost in the mind of the girl, no longer causing such a devious twirl.

The girl stepped upon God’s great hand, happy she’s escaping the troubling land.

No longer in the pits of hell, she has decided to no longer rebel.

Forever obedient to the hands of god, and with a mighty prod.

She awakes back on earth, all a dream about self-worth.

She decided right there and then, to no longer travel down the dark den.

For hell is a terrible place, always leading away a sad grace.

But under the faith of God, and the ask for help, no more humans can just say, “welp.”

It’s okay to ask to be saved, for God helps all those who ask to be unpaved.

This was my story, my journey with God, and both of my hands pray and applaud. -Ren Avian

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