It was another one of those nights. I was laying beneath the starry sky, just letting my thoughts wander. The white sky and black were beautiful, just as they were on any other night. But that was the problem. It was just like any other night. The stars stood against the whiteness, like grey dots, some bigger than others. I stretched my open palm towards the sky, as if I could touch it, if I only tried hard enough. The black moon shone bright, casting the grey grass around me in a dark light. I had spent countess times on this small clearing, in the middle of the woods. After having a heavy argument with my dad, for ‘not understanding the struggles he had with raising a child like me‘. It’s not like I ever asked him to raise me. (Not that he did much of that anyway). Sometimes I just came here to watch the stars, wondering what it felt like to be one of them.

A weary sigh escaped my lips, as I took in the mundane, monochrome landscape that I was so accustomed to. If only…if only something would change. I was sick of this dullnesss, that seemed to haunt me. I glanced at my arm, the long scar standing out against my skin. Blood was red. I read that in a book. I wanted to see it, the ‘satiated red color’ that was so vivdly described in the book. Looking back, it was reckless and stupid. And I didn’t even get the result I wanted. All I saw was a thick, black liquid, that ran down my arm. It also hurt like hell. Red. It sounded so strange. But now I knew that blood smelled like iron. Maybe the color smelled like that? I would find out someday.

I continued to lay there for hours, the white sky giving away to different shades of grey. The black moon was replaced by the white sun, which was shining way too bright against the pitchblack morning sky. My friends called it the golden hour. It irritated me. I knew that gold was a rare and beautiful material, **_but_** **_what_** **_did it look like? _**I watched for a couple more minutes, until the sun was fully out, then I sat up and stretched my stiff limbs.

I was just about to get up and leave, when something caught my eye. Something that stood out like a sore thumb against the grey grass. At first glance, It looked like a normal flower, swaying gently in the morning breeze. But something was definitely wrong. It was neither black, nor white. Slowly, I rose from my spot and took one step closer to the strange thing. Then another. And another. Before I knew it, I was kneeling in front of the flower, reaching out to touch it. But I hesitated. Never in my life had I seen something like this, something that wasn’t monochrome. It had a color, I knew that much, but I had no word to describe it. It could be red, blue, green, yellow, or even purple. The petals looked saturated and rich, they looked **beautiful. **_Am I dreaming? Am I just going crazy now, or is this real? _My hands started to shake, I had trouble controlling my heavy breathing. Scary. It was scary, unfamiliar and so, so overwhelming. But then again, my biggest wish just came true.

The realization came over me like a tidal wave. _I was seeing a color. A Color!_ It could be joy and pure happiness, it could also be fear and shock, I wasn’t so sure myself. Carefully, I picked the flower up and brushed my fingertips over the petals. They felt just as soft and saturated as they looked. My curiosity got the better of me and I smelled the flower. It had a sugary, almost sickly sweet scent. It reminded me of that rose-water, that you could buy at the little shop next to my school, that only tasted like artificial sweetener.

I started to laugh at my own thoughts, finding it almost comical. I wanted to hold onto this feeling, to lock it away and stare at the beautiful color everyday. I didn’t even care to find out what color that actually was. Just the fact that I was seeing a color was enough for me. I got to my feet, my legs feeling like jelly. I was feeling ecstatic, my heart pumping way more blood than it should. The world around me was still monochrome. The sun was still white and the moon would probably stay black. But the beautiful flower that was tigtly clutched in my hand was giving me a a sense of hope. Hope that world wasn’t only black and white.