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Weekly Contest #337
Death’s shades and shadows were all I had left. I had used the last of my coloured paint on him. Red. For a flash of red beneath a coat, and the cheeky auburn hair that had poked out from beneath his hat. Red in a field of greys, blacks, and whites. A boy. My boy. Red. My Red. A rose sprouting through concrete. Or at least that’s what I had imagined every day since I had seen him in the street. I wrapped a dark, drab, floor length cloak over my yellow tights and purple top, cinching it tight at the waist before I stepped outside. Closing the...
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