Writing Prompt

Regal with an air of noticable grace Rich with love and hope Radiantly lights up a room Righteously uncompromising her dignity Remarkably noticable, like the crown on her head Revered, commanding admiration from all that surround her Refined in her elegance, her beauty & grace Resilently adaptable in every situation

he was hiding dark like me. with glimpses of shimmer from an unexpected moment; like smoke billowing in and out from a fire in the distance. dense and thick like walking through an extreme fog so thick you could grab it. The true color of smoke not too dark; not too light but the perfect shade of in between.

“What’s your favorite color?” Everyone knows their favorite color and can answer promptly and with reason. Pink because it’s soft and feminine. Green because it reminds us of nature. Yellow because it’s bright and sunny and cheerful. Brown is not high on anyone’s list of favorite colors. Which is a shame. Brown is criminally under appreciated. Brown is everything warm and cozy. Brown is the soil that feeds us. Brown is comforting. It’s a worn couch with a soft blanket. Hot chocolate or tea or coffee steaming and warming our hands and bellies. The richness of a favorite dog’s fur. Everything about the color calms and soothes. A brown soul is the best soul to find. They radiate comfort. Stability. They are earthy and wholesome. They pull you in like gravity and just being near them makes you want to set your burdens down and sigh in relief. They’re home. They welcome you in with open arms and set you down with dinner before you know it. Everyone should have that friend to turn to. Not the gray-souled friend that serves as an anchor. But the brown-souled friend that acts as the comforter. The grounded friend that gives and folds around you when you need it. That lends solace and peace wherever they go.

Orange. A warm colour associated with beautiful views in both dawn and dusk. It’s vivid but doesn’t destroy my eyes cause it’s kind. Smiling like its lifting my own soul. I walk round them because they are the centre of my love. They hug me and gives warmth, but its burning me of hatred and lies. Something so beautiful is also so deceiving. Orange. A hearty colour that I used to love, because it’s abstract and different from others. Now I’m starting to love red as it isn’t so deceiving, it just burns exactly like a fire. The fire reached my heart shattering it into flames, flames that can consume my soul. But then again, I see orange. Orange will always be in the back of my mind, because orange is the beautiful mistake of my life.

🧡 🧡 🧡

Navy Blue is a gorgeous color, often associated with formal. Navy blue does rules a lot of peoples hearts, especially girls choosing their favorite color. Navy blue is friends with a lot of colors like dark red, olive, and more. They’re all very formal, and quite useful for most colors. Their younger sibling is baby blue, lightest of them all. Their parents are Blue, and black. Everyone loves their families, and they love everyone. It’s all happy and fun, but formal in their house. The house they live in is very white and beige, but still pretty. The house is very large and decorated with vases and flowers that grow.

The day, already beautiful,tall ,fit ,and graceful , my eyes catch me by surprise. Feeling already illuminated , feelings take over me I have never felt before . Eyes wide , not understanding how a fantastic day could get any better , the impossible just happened , happened at first glance , feelings so fantastic. Now a bit uncomfortable but understanding the day deserved to stay great . Understanding that now good can get even better , I didn’t want to stand still , I moved direction.

Blue sea calm as can be crashing waves tinkling laugh Cotton candy sunshine and rainbows Coconut Vanilla Dandelion daisy A little bit crazy Homeade pie cherry key lime Orange creamsicle and fireflies Wind blown hair in the cold crisp air Pink and creamy oh so dreamy a pinch of sugar a pinch of spice a pinch of everything nice Dragonflies Kitty cats Mismatched socks and converse painted canvas new spring flowers hot showers messy hair singing in the kitchen A little bit of this and a little big of that Thats her a concoction of everything she has ever known

There was something ancient about her. I’d known it since we met in the forest. She said she was just like me, but in her black eyes, some force churned. I didn’t like standing too close to her, I feared I might get pulled into her gravity.

But I kept coming back to the clearing. She was always there, perched on a rock or dangling from the crook of a tree branch. Sometimes crouched on the ground, poking a bug with a stick. She never looked up at me. Just knew I was there. And we talked sometimes, me about my village and her about her animal and tree friends, but other times we just sat together.

As I grew, she did too, but I swear it’s only because she wanted to. Slowly, we talked less about my village. It upset her. And one day I looked up, and she was laughing greatly at some joke I’d said, and she was a woman.

Another day, I asked her if she was a witch. All trace of levity left her.

“Would it be so bad if I was?”

“No, not at all, just-“

“I’m not a witch as much as a bear is not a man-eating monster, or a rat is not a bothersome nuisance. Witch is what your people call things like me. I would not be a witch if there were no men to call me witch, just as a bear would not eat men if there were none, just as a rat would not bother men if there were none.”

She spoke low, but her voice was filled with that darkness. Mine was trembling in my response

“But I’m a man, and I don’t call you witch. I call you friend. I only asked out of curiosity. I’m sorry.”

Her face softened, and something warmer crept into the black of her. A purple, maybe.

“I know. But don’t you ever listen to them when they speak of witches. Or you will find this clearing bare forever.”

I only nodded, and we sat until sunset, and I returned home.

The people I returned to began to feel like the other world, like my time with her was the only true time spent. They spoke of bad weather, poor crop, and when they’d get around to the tavern. Sometimes, my family would ask if I would get married soon. Other times they demanded that I hurry up and pick a girl before the good ones are gone. The same way farmers talk about prize cows. It disgusted me.

It was one of these nights, of feeling wretched at the dinner table with my father and mother and siblings, worn from the work of the day and worn from their demands, that an idea flew through my mind, like a bird past a window. A bare streak of a thought. What if I left here to go with her?

It grew in me like a seed. The hike to the clearing made me lighter and lighter. We lay together, on a fresh autumn morning, when I told her.

“I hate them. I know why you live here, among nature. Your life must be so full,” I said to her wistfully.

A flash of green crept into her dark presence.

“It is.” She looked out over the valley, the trilling of birds and rustling of animals echoing faintly, the ripple of reddened treetops in the playful wind.

“Could I ever be like you?” I said longingly.

“You could.” She returned her gaze to mine, and I felt that old fear of being pulled into her, but this time as a desire.

“What must I do?”

“Nothing. In form and action, we are already the same. If you are not home among the village, but here, then you are already like me.”

She sighed, a deep blue spreading over her.

“I was once a girl in a village. Just like you were a boy in a village. But they didn’t want me. They called me a witch-spawn, and cast me into the wilderness. And in the leaving, in the walking through the woods on bare, bloodied feet, I didn’t die like they thought I might. The forest became my village. Do you understand?”

I nodded, slowly. I told her I had to prepare, and she understood, and bade me farewell.

Most would write a note, saying they left to explore or marry a girl in another town, but I knew it wouldn’t work. So I went home, and I told them a truth in the way they would understand it, face to face. That my long walks were to see a powerful witch, and that we had lain together, and that I was leaving forever.

My father struck me in the face. He and my mother both cursed my name, saying I was always a strange boy and they always had hoped I would die out in the woods. A useless second son who couldn’t even marry well, and now he’s saing he’s in love with a witch. My elder brother had the honor of throwing me out the door and into the mud, with nothing more than the clothes on my back.

And I was lighter for it.

I trodded, weighed down by rain and filth but carried by hope, down the road out of the village. I didn’t go to the clearing. I simply left the path, and delved into the untamed forest.

The morning snuck across the sky silently, turning the night into a heavy gray. Silty mud sucked at my boots, sharp branches tore at my coat. This was the trial.

I learned much in those days. That the forest was not just the flowers and the gentle things. It was the blisters on my hands, the cutting cold, the ruthless pursuance of the mountain lion that stalked me. But I did not starve. I did not die.

And the blackness spread from the seed in me, that was planted so long ago. It wasn’t simply black, but blended with the hues of everything. Like raven feathers, I was a void that shone with every beautiful and horrible thing in the forest.

At the end of my changing, I was at the clearing, and she was there. Looking upon her darkness, and my own now calling back to it, is the sweetest homecoming I will ever feel. A warm yellow glow enveloped us, and we went into our forest, hand in hand as witch-lovers.

It's no wonder the universe designated him the Chosen One.

He's too good for this world. He's certainly too good for me. He's the sun to my moon, the day to my night, the life to my death.

He's a beacon of light with a gravitational force that's impossible to ignore. He gives off radiant glow. I can't help but be drawn into his incandescent orbit. I know I have everything to lose when it comes to him, but to be out of his path is somehow worse.

He is golden in a million ways. Despite how the world has repeatedly knocked him down, he does his damn best to help and do good. Despite everything always going wrong for him, his intentions are never everything but the best.

He is a field of sunflowers. He emits enough radiant light to warm and comfort everyone. He is happiness; he is the sun.

"You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I'd wake up every morning and think, 'This will end in flames.'"

Character 1: bright yellow, mixed with a highlighter color and light yellow similar to the sun.

Character 2: Royal Purple with light pink highlights

Character 3: Rusty gold, silver sprinkled in between.

Character 4: Baby Blue, with white highlights